To Not Yield
by JanEyrEvanescence12
Summary: AU Skyfall. Tracy Draco feels embittered and cold. That changes when Tracy finds herself, Grandmother and ally James Bond fighting for their very survival. Will Tacy prove she is her grandmother's granddaughter without losing her heart in the process? Or will Bond prove that her icy heart can be melted? Tracy Draco x James Bond
1. 007 Reporting for Duty

To Not Yield

**A/N:** My usual disclaimers: all copyrights go to those who rightfully own them.

I've always liked Tracy Draco Bond and Skyfall and have always wondered (since this is the 50th anniversary of the Bond films coming out) why they didn't include her in the new movies coming out (even though I do like the Vesper/Bond pairing). That and while we get small references to M's background, I've always wondered about her family and home life. So this was created.

Oh and I reimagined Tracy's background a little bit in order to fit with the story. Other than that, she's still a young woman has seen more than her fair share of tragedy and has developed an icy skin to protect her broken heart from getting shattered again.

Enjoy and destroy.

* * *

007 Reporting for Duty

I watched Grandmother out of the corner of my eye as we were driven home from the memorial service for the six agents killed in the recent explosion of MI6. She held herself up high, staunch and dignified, every inch a lady. We didn't speak to each other. I sensed that she wanted to be left with her thoughts, so I said nothing to her.

This wasn't unusual for her. After all, she was known as the Queen of Numbers. Grandmother was the staunch and icy head of MI6, it's said that blood as cold as her blue eyes pumped through her veins. Sadly, her coldness bled into her family life.

No matter what I did, I felt that I could never live up to her expectations. Neither could Mom, as she more or less eloped with Dad over Grandmother's stern objections to the match. After all, Dad was head of the U.S.A. Draco Crime Syndicate. Mom told me bitterly that Grandmother was against the match because of the blight on the family name rather than any real fear for her daughter's safety.

They never spoke again. I never once saw Grandmother shed a tear after Mom and Dad were killed in a vicious car accident when I was fifteen. It was shortly afterwards I went to live with Grandmother and Grandpa in England. When he died a few years later, Grandmother shipped me off to university.

Sometimes, I wondered if the real reason Grandmother took me in was because Grandpa insisted. I never understood how she put up with him. He was a jolly old soul with a deep laugh and a shimmer in his dark brown eyes.

We got out and walked into our penthouse flat. By this point, the silence was becoming unbearable. "Do you want me to get you something to eat?" I finally asked as I hung up our coats in the hallway closet.

"No, thank you, Teresa." She said in a low voice. That was the other thing we could never agree with. She called me by my real name, the only one who ever did. "It's late, get some sleep."

I nodded, she wanted to be alone again. "Good night then, Grandmother." I left her as she began preparing herself a drink. As I was about to enter my dark bedroom, a strange shiver ran up my back. Seeing the windows open and the curtains fluttering confirmed my fears.

We weren't alone. Somebody else was in the penthouse, more specifically my bedroom.

My senses became as heightened as a cat's. Reaching for the wall relief where I had Dad's Smith and Wesson hidden for just such an occasion, I listened for any sudden noises. Something moved closer to me. A shadow of a man. Now! But before I could grab the gun, somebody grabbed my wrists and held them up. My scream froze in my throat as the hallway light illuminated the intruder's face.

He was about my height, a few inches taller than me at most. Tanned skin and a well built frame. Dirty rumpled clothing. Short blonde hair. Light blue eyes. He was looking at me curiously, as if wondering who I was. As for me, I was too surprised to fight back. There was something...different...about him. I also realized that he wasn't here to harm my grandmother and myself. Because he would've no doubt killed me if he did have that intention.

The lights flicked on, blinding me. Grandmother had come up behind me, holding a glass of scotch in her hands. She looked at him disapproving and yet relieved. "Where the hell have you been?"

The man let me go and held himself up with a military poise. "Enjoying death. 007 reporting for duty." This was one of my Grandmother's agents...I remembered overhearing that one had recently been killed while on duty in Istanbul.

"You should've called." She said, clearly not impressed.

"You didn't get the postcard?" 007 asked, a hint of a smile on his face. I bit back a giggle. It was nice to see somebody other than me give a snarky comeback to Grandmother. Most people are too scared of her to say anything other than Yes Ma'am or No Ma'am. "So this is it. We're both played out."

"Well, then if you believe that, why did you come back?" Grandmother asked, ignoring the comeback.

"Good question." 007 said.

"Because we're under attack and you know we need you." Grandmother said without batting an eyelash.

"Well, here I am." 007 nodded.

"You'll have to be debriefed and declared fit for active service. You can only return to duty when you've passed the tests, so take them seriously. And a shower might be in order." Grandmother sniffed in disapproval.

"I'll go home and change." He moved to leave.

"Oh, we've sold your flat, put your things into storage. Standard procedure for the death of an unmarried employee who has no next of kin."

"I'll find a hotel." 007 mumbled.

"Well you're not bloody sleeping here." Grandmother muttered.

"I know somewhere you can stay." I said. 007 and Grandmother looked at me. "A friend of mine, Mary Gloria, is an intern at the Fleming. She owes me a favor." I retorted before Grandmother could say anything back.

"That's fine by me." 007 said.

"Come with me. She'll never believe you otherwise." I said, picking up my car keys from the nightstand and sending a quick text to Mary, alerting her to her guest. Secretly, I wanted to know a little more about this man. There was something fascinating about 007.

We were about to walk out of the flat when Grandmother called out. "Oh, and 007?" 007 and I looked back. "If you lay so much as one finger on my granddaughter, I will personally use you for target practice." Grandmother said without blinking.

"Point taken." 007 mumbled as we headed to the downstairs garage where my silver Aston Martin was waiting. "Beautiful car." He said as I unlocked it and we got in. "Sweet sixteen present?"

"More like 'Congrats on getting into university. Now go off and don't get yourself killed'" I said, pressing the garage lid button and we drove out onto the busy streets of London. We were silent for a while. "You were declared dead?" I asked.

"Yes, a mission that got out of hand." 007 nodded, his curt tone confirmed that he didn't want to discuss the matter further. "What do you know about the situation at hand?" He asked.

"Not much, I'm afraid." I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Not that she'd ever tell me anything. You of all people should know that." We stopped at a light. "Why did you have to break into our flat?"

"You said it yourself, I had been declared dead. Not exactly convenient for a dead person to waltz into MI6. That is if there was anything left for me to walk into." We stopped in the parking lot of the Fleming. I saw Mary, a petite woman with honey-blonde hair and wide blue eyes, standing at the entrance. "That's your friend?" 007 pointed.

I nodded. "Apparently she has your room ready. She would've texted me if she wasn't able to get something. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr...?" I held out my hand.

"Bond, James Bond." James Bond shook my hand. "And you're Teresa Draco?"

"Tracy." I said. Bond looked at me curiously, the corner of his lip turning into an amused smile. "Teresa is the name of a saint. I'm known as Tracy."

"Apparently not to your grandmother." Bond quipped as he got out and began walking to the front door. I watched as he walked inside before turning to go home. I couldn't help but think about him as I drove home.

What was it about him? Why wouldn't he leave my mind? Man, I must really get out more often. I thought as I drove into the underground garage. My life at that point really revolved around university and Grandmother. I went to school at London University during the day and lived under my Grandmother's stern eye at night.

But there was no point to going out. I remembered sadly as I rode the lift to the flat. I didn't want to get close to anyone ever again. After losing my parents and grandfather in a short span of time, I guess I began developing Grandmother's icy heart. In a way, it frightened me to know that I was becoming like Grandmother.

I suppose I was just so lonely that I was more or less grasping for straws at that point. Well, that's all taken care of. I decided upon entering the flat. I was never going to see James Bond, Agent 007, ever again.

Grandmother was waiting for me, her arms folded across her chest. She was not amused. "007 got to his hotel all right?"

"Obviously." I sniped as I took off my coat and hung it up. "I came back alone, didn't I?"

"That will be the last time you get involved in my work." Grandmother followed me into my bedroom. "Bond is not a man to treat lightly. He will use you and abandon you at the first opportunity."

"Nice to see that you care about me, Grandmother. If you'll excuse me, I've got a paper to finish up." I turned on my heel. I flipped up my laptop, plugged in my headphones and got to work.

She didn't leave as I began typing. After a few moments, she asked in a tenative voice. "That's your grandfather's Tennyson book?"

Grandmother was pointing to the slim pocketbook of Tennyson's poems I was using as reference for my paper. I nodded, pushing off my headphones. "Yeah. When I learned my class was doing a section on Tennyson, I pulled it off the shelf."

"He was your grandfather's favorite poet. What's the paper on?"

"It's a historical analysis on _Ulysses_." I said, not looking up from my laptop. Grandmother saw that she wasn't going to get anything more out of me and excused herself. Using music and my books I was able to continue working.

That was until my mobile phone beeped. It was a number I didn't recognize. _Thank you so much, Miss Draco._

_Who's this?_ I texted back, concerned. Only a handful of people knew my mobile number and I only gave it out to people I knew.

_Who do you think?_

That's when I realized who it was and my concern turned to annoyance._ Mr. Bond, how did u get my mobile number?_

_Your friend was kind enough to give it to me._

I knew Mary well enough to know that she wouldn't just give out my number... _U seduced her, u bastard._

There were a few seconds before he responded back. _Loose lips sink ships, darling._

God...I could see why Grandmother was annoyed at him. _If u send one more text, I'll tell Grandmother._

I waited with baited breath. He didn't respond. Thank God, I thought and continued trying to work on my paper.

But the memory of Bond's hands touching mine and his piercing blue eyes unsettled me.

* * *

A/N: So...should I continue?


	2. The Situation Escalates

**A/N:** Ok, I've decided to keep going with this story! And for those of you who think that M is being cruel to Tracy, keep this in mind. This is being told from Tracy's perspective and Tracy at this point is still very angry at M's perceived treatment of her mother and over her parents' death. That and she shares M's personality far more than she'd like. I think if M ran into somebody who was as headstrong as herself, there would be clashing. It's like the relationship I have with my mom. Don't get me wrong, we love each other, but we're very stubborn and headstrong so there's clashing too.

* * *

The Situation Escalates

The next afternoon, I met up with Mary as we always did at the Goldeneye Pub for lunch. Except I was ready to give her a piece of my mind.

"Mr. Bond told me you gave him my number last night." I said as we waited for our order.

Instead of being apologetic, she was flushed with excitement. "Oh, Trace, you really need to lighten up. He's such a charming gentleman."

"So are black widow spiders." I scoffed, sipping my Coke. "By the way, where is lover boy?"

"Oh, he had to go to work." Mary frowned before smiling. "But we've got another date tonight."

"In bed?" Mary giggled at my comment. I smirked before I turned serious. "Seriously though, why did you give him my number?"

"I suppose he wanted to thank you for helping him find a place to spend the night. That and I wanted to prove to him that you were a prude." Mary mumbled the last sentence but I still heard her.

"That I'm a prude?!" I laughed.

"He claimed that he could charm any woman and I knew you'd prove him wrong." Mary said. "You obviously said something that turned him off. He frowned and then turned off his phone after a while. But I won the bet, so that means he takes me out tonight. What did you tell him, by the way?"

"I would send Grandmother after him if he sent me any more texts."

"No wonder." Mary shook her head and then thankfully changed the subject.

* * *

All was quiet for a week or two. Bond didn't send me any more calls or texts. After a while, I had all but forgotten about him. I didn't hear more about him until the security system began malfunctioning. Fortunately, MI6 sent their top Quartermaster within a half-hour of my calling Grandmother. Even better, it was somebody who had been over at the flat a couple of times so I was familiar with him. Unfortunately for me, I still hadn't learned his name.

"So have you been able to find out what's wrong with it?" I asked the tall and skinny young man as the system checks began running.

"Patience is a virtue, Miss Draco." He looked up at me, pushing his thick glasses back up on his nose.

"It's Tracy." I said.

"It's Q." He brushed his thick bushy hair out of his eyes and returned to his work. "And no, it's not short for Quincy."

I decided to have a little fun with him. "Ok, so what is it short for? Quintin? Quinn? Quant? Ooh, or Quoba?"

"You want me to give your laptop a virus?" Q rolled his eyes and grumbled. "I can hack into any password protected computer with my hands tied behind my back and eyes closed, so don't think your computer is safe for a moment."

"Ok, sheez, I was just teasing." I laughed. "I never thought somebody as young as you would need lightening up."

"That's what he said too...I just hope he returns my gadgets in one piece when he comes back." Q shook his head and muttered. "Cocky, arrogant bastard..."

"Who?"

"MI6 business. None of your business knowing."

I had a very good idea. "Is it one 007, aka James Bond?" He looked up at me in surprise. "He was here a couple of weeks back." I quickly explained.

"Yes and I'll get into very big trouble if I say anymore." Q pointed up to the ceiling where I knew a security camera was hiding.

"I wasn't going to ask anymore." I shrugged my shoulders. "Besides, I'm not interested in rakes and he knows that."

Q's bushy eyebrows shot up and he fought to keep a surprised smile off his face. "You mean he didn't try to...you know...?"

"Grandmother threatened to shoot him if he tried." That got Q to laugh. _DING!_ The lift doors opened. Grandmother came in, having finally returned from the new office. Her Chief of Staff and faithful shadow, Bill Tanner, appeared behind her. "Well, well, well. Speak of the Devil and she'll appear."

"Don't try my patience, Teresa." Grandmother snapped as she put her bag on the nightstand. Bill winced as she walked to her private office. Something was wrong. While Grandmother was cool to me, she'd never lose her temper with me unless she was already in a foul mood. I left Q to his work and went over to Bill. I liked Bill, he had the patience and sanity of a saint to keep working for someone like Grandmother.

"Do you really have to try your grandmother like that?" Bill gently scolded me as he hung up Grandmother's coat and umbrellas. "She's been through enough as it is."

"What's wrong this time?" I asked.

"A public inquiry has been called over her handling of a stolen disk drive and the subsequent bombing of MI6. It'll take place at 10 tomorrow."

I shook my head, for once upset for her. "It wasn't her fault though! She can't keep a damn eye everywhere at once!"

"It doesn't matter." Bill shook his head. "Parliament wants someone's head to roll. Since your grandmother is the head of MI6, they've focused their anger on her."

"Tanner, will you please come into my office?" We heard Grandmother call from her office.

"Duty calls." Bill said to me, gently squeezing my shoulder before heading into the office, closing the door behind him.

For a while, all was quiet. I stood looking at the closed office door, listening to the rain patter against the flat's windows.

I felt bad. We weren't close, but she was the only relative I had left. She did take me in, however begrudgingly, after my parents died. She patiently put up with a very angry grieving teenager as best she could after Grandpa died. And after the explosion at MI6, when the final death toll came in at six, she made many phone calls to family members and spent hours comforting them. I once caught sight of her after a difficult phone call looking at a photograph she had on the desk, looking almost saddened.

What time was it now? Catching sight of the clock, I saw it was almost tea-time. Maybe I should make her favorite. It would certainly help my guilt.

* * *

I waited until after Bill and Q left before making up the tea tray and heading to her office. Well here goes nothing, I took a deep breath before rapping on the wooden doorpost. "Come in." She said. Balancing the tray as best I could, I opened the door with one hand. Grandmother was typing at her laptop. I stood there nervously, holding the tray. After a few moments of awkward silence, she looked up.

"You uh, you...you missed tea time." I said. "I, I thought I'd make some Earl Gray."

"Thank you, Teresa." Grandmother said, closing up her laptop and putting it away. I put the tray on her desk as she began pouring out the tea. "White or black?"

"Black please, no sugar. What about you?" I asked as I sat down in front of her desk.

"I'll have two sugars, no milk please." Grandmother said, passing me my cup. Likewise, I made hers. We were silent, drinking our hot tea and listening to the rain falling on the windows outside. She sighed. "I suppose Tanner's told you about the inquiry?"

"Yeah, he did. Do you want me to go with you tomorrow?"

"What about lectures?" Grandmother asked.

"One day won't kill me. If I send my professors an email explaining that a family emergency came up then, I should be all right. Besides, it's another lecture on Tennyson. Thanks to Grandpa, I know him front and back."

Grandmother nodded, I took it that she wanted me to go with her. Her mobile rang. "I suppose you want me to leave?" I asked, standing up.

She nodded. "I'll take care of the tray." I got up and was about to leave before she asked one last thing. "Before I forget, your paper on Tennyson, how did it go?"

"I got high marks, thank you for asking." I smiled before leaving.

* * *

The phone call was for an emergency meeting at MI6. This meant I had the flat all to myself for the rest of the night. I decided to have a nice quiet evening at home.

Unfortunately, somebody else had other plans.

I was in my bathroom, towel drying my hair after a long shower when I heard the familiar notes of an old jazz song. Now what? I hung up my towels and left my bedroom.

To my great surprise, standing by my open laptop and dressed in a blue track suit, was James Bond. "Jesus Christ! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!" I jumped, putting my hand over my pounding heart.

"I'm full of surprises. Nice choice of music. Louis Armstrong?"

"_We Have All The Time In The World_." I explained as I stopped the music, glaring at him. "If you don't explain why you're here in ten seconds, I will use you for target practice."

"What? Not even a hello?" Bond asked, an innocent smile on his face. "I leave some very important unfinished business at MI6 to deliver a message and you threaten violence?"

"What message?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

Bond's voice and face turned serious. "The mastermind behind the bombing and stolen hard-drive has been captured and is now in custody."

"Jolly good show and well done. Now that you've crowed over it like a proud rooster, you can leave. The door's over there, I trust you can show yourself out."

"I'm convinced that he'll be going after both you and M. Raoul Silva is his name and he'll stop at nothing." Bond's tone didn't change, so I knew there was a real threat.

"So how come Grandmother didn't tell me? Or I trust you didn't tell her?"

"She knows, but...I wanted to tell you that..." Bond began looking me over. I could see that he was imagining undressing me and I felt naked despite my pink and white pyjamas. But there was something very...alluring... about his gaze. For once, I wasn't offended that he was looking at me the way he was. Part of me even wanted to feel his fingers lifting my top.

"Tell me what?" I asked, holding my breath. He leaned in and his warm hand slipped under my long hair, tickling the nape of my neck.

"That...I'm sorry for doing this." Bond pushed me down. I slammed face first onto the wooden floor. **BANG!** A gunshot went off. "Get to the lift! Now!" Bond yelled. I needed no more prompting and scrambled away. **BANG!** Wait! The gun! I opened the wall relief and took out Dad's Smith and Wesson.

It was maybe a hundred feet to the lift doors. But somebody was out there, determined to make sure that I didn't get into the lift alive. **BANG!** A bullet struck the doorway, splinters of wood sprayed everywhere. Get down, Tracy! I dove behind the sofa as another bullet flew over my head, striking a glass vase on the bookshelf. **BANG!**

Where the hell was Bond? I could hear the sounds of fighting and things breaking from my bedroom. So don't expect him to be your knight in shining armor and ride to your rescue, I thought as I turned off the safety.

Dad had taught me how to safely use his Smith and Wesson many years ago. His words came back into my head. "Trace, there's one very important thing you should know about using a gun in self-defense. Don't use it unless absolutely necessary. But if you have to shoot someone, shoot to kill." Getting close to a corner, I looked behind the sofa, seeing three ski-masked assailants peeking from behind the opening between the living room and the kitchen.

Now Tracy! I aimed at one of the assailants and pulled the trigger. **BANG!** I hit him in the torso. He slumped down. One down, two to go. I ducked back behind the sofa as a barrage of bullets flew my way. They stopped to reload. Now's your chance! I took it and fired again. **BANG!** Again, I hit one of them in the chest. He collapsed to the floor. Two down, one to go.

**BANG!** The last one went down before I had a chance to fire at the last one. It was a clean headshot. That's when I noticed that the fighting sounds from my room had stopped. I looked up and saw Bond standing in the doorway to my bedroom, looking me over. "You ok?" He asked, walking over.

I turned the safety back on. "I will be as soon as I stop shaking. What happened to our pal in my bedroom?"

"He lost our little game of hide and seek." Bond didn't blink as he helped me up. "Now do you believe me that Silva would be after you?"

"I'd be stupid to say no." We headed to the lift but not before I grabbed my car keys and mobile phone. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe." Bond said as the lift went down.

* * *

The somewhere safe Bond had in mind was the flat he had managed to acquire under an assumed name. It was small, clean and sparsely decorated. Not too surprising, considering that his job required him to spent most of his time traveling. "Here it is, home sweet home." Bond said.

"Very nice. So, how long will I stay here?" I asked.

"Until the hearing tomorrow morning. The guest bedroom is over there, it should have everything you need for the night." He pointed to an open door. "I'll be returning to MI6 and won't be back until very late so don't bother waiting up. Don't let anybody other than myself, Tanner or your grandmother in."

"I won't." But something was gnawing on the back of my mind. "Mr. Bond, may I ask you a question?" I asked. He nodded, looking at me with cool blue eyes. "Why did you save me just now instead of just telling Grandmother and having her send somebody over?"

He paused as he put a large hand on the doorknob. "M would never have forgiven me if something happened to you. Good night, Miss Draco."

"Good night and thank you." I said.

I thought I saw a smile cross his face. "You're welcome." He said before opening the door and leaving. I heard him turn the key in the deadbolt.

Shaking my head, I went into the small bedroom. That's when I noticed that I had six missed calls from Grandmother. Shortly afterwards, my mobile went off. Again, it was Grandmother. "Hello Grandmother."

"Teresa, where the hell have you been?! You had me worried sick!" She yelled, more or less deafening me. I was surprised to hear a tone of concern in her voice. "Somebody broke into the flat! We've been looking everywhere for you!"

Part of me wanted to cry, more out of relief that I was hearing her voice again. "Yeah, I know. The reason I didn't call right away was because I was driving. You know I don't like using my mobile when I'm driving." I said. "But I'm ok. I'm safe."

"Thank God..." she sighed. "Where are you now?"

"Mr. Bond's flat in the northern end of London. He's on his way back to MI6 now."

"Bond...so that's why he disappeared just now..." Grandmother mumbled under her breath before continuing our conversation. "You stay put until tomorrow morning. We'll come get you in time for the hearing."

"What about you, do you have a place to stay the night? The flat looks more like a place somebody used for a shooting range."

"I'll manage, you have a good night, Teresa." Grandmother said.

"You too." I said as we hung up. My thoughts were a jumble. She was worried about me, I realized as I pulled back the blankets on the bed in the guest room and got underneath them. She went out looking for me after the shooting happened.

Was it possible...that Grandmother...cared about me? That even though she put Queen and country first...she loved me?

* * *

**A/N**: Yeah, not too sure about this chapter but I wanted there to be more interactions between Bond and Tracy before things really heated up here and show that M does care about her granddaughter.


	3. Like A Thief in the Night

Like a Thief in the Night

I woke up the next morning to the smell of eggs and bacon being fried. At first, I didn't recognize where I was. Then I remembered Bond coming into the flat the night before and protecting me from Silva's men. After making the bed, I headed out into the living area.

Bond was standing at the electric range, preparing two small plates of scrambled eggs and bacon. "Morning, Miss Draco." Bond said, putting the plates on the table. "Have a seat."

"Thank you." I said as we sat down and I began taking a couple bites of scrambled eggs. "This is pretty good."

"My late housekeeper, May Maxwell's specialty." Bond said. "She used to make me this every morning for breakfast when I was growing up. I managed to get the recipe shortly before she died..." His voice trailed off. It was a sensitive topic for him.

"My mom used to make scrambled eggs and bacon for us every morning too." I chuckled, remembering the story Mom and Dad told me. "According to Dad, the first time he sampled Mom's eggs and bacon, he knew right away that he had met the woman he was going to marry. They were together for eighteen years..." Now I had come upon an uncomfortable topic. This was the most I had talked about my parents with somebody other than my closest friends. I hadn't even discussed my parents with my grandparents. It was just too painful...

Bond fortunately asked no more. We ate in silence, he only broke his silence when we finished and he picked up the empty plates to take them to the sink. "Gareth Mallory, the Head of Intelligence and Security Committee, will be taking you down to the inquiry. M had some business and won't have time to come get you before the inquiry. Oh, and before I forget..." He picked up an Anne Klein shopping bag hanging on the doorknob that I hadn't noticed before. "Because I don't think you want to go to the inquiry in your pyjamas, I've got some clothes and shoes here for you." He gave it to me.

I looked at the contents of the bag and then again at Bond. "That was very nice of you and I appreciate it, but what if they're not the right size?"

"Trust me, they are."

"What makes you so sure they...?" I realized what I was asking and began turning pink. Bond grinned mischieviously. "Forget I asked."

* * *

Bond was right, the knee length light brown shirt dress and matching penny loafers were a perfect fit. True, it had sleeves that stopped just past my shoulders and the neckline, while conservative, plunged until it stopped at my breastbone. But it actually looked pretty good on me. And he had gotten me a brown jacket ward off the cold and wet November weather.

By the time I got changed and pinned my hair up into a respectable twist, Mr. Mallory had arrived. He and Bond were waiting in the living area. Bond nodded approvingly. Mallory stood up, he was about Bond's height, with a prominent forehead, brown hair and dark hazel eyes. He looked as sharp as his dark blue suit. "Impressive work, Bond. Who knew you actually had conservative tastes?"

I smiled. "Since her grandmother and several MP's will be there, I thought it would be best if she didn't look like Lady Gaga. Miss Draco, this is Gareth Mallory. Mallory, this is Tracy Draco."

"Nice to meet you, sir." I said, offering my hand.

"The pleasure's mine." He took my hand in a firm and warm grip and smiled. "Shall we be off then?"

"Yes but first, I just want to say thank you, Mr. Bond for everything you've done for me."

"You're welcome." We shook hands. "I hope I'll be seeing you soon."

* * *

Mallory and I rode through the streets of London in his private car. We were quiet at first, that was until the radio began showing talk shows of the public inquiry.

"...she's a crazy old bat out of hell, a relic of the Cold War." A commenter said, spewing in a venomous tone. "I worked for her once, and pardon my French, but she's a cold and heartless bitch with more regard for numbers and statistics than human life." I grimaced, wishing with all my heart that I could march into that studio and punch the life out of the bastard who said that.

"I'm sorry you had to listen to that, Tracy." Mallory said as he turned off the radio.

"It's ok, you didn't know." I sighed and shook my head. "God, why are they doing this?!"

"You and your grandmother are close?" Mallory asked me as we stopped at a light.

I shook my head. "No, not really. It just...I mean, she does her best, risking her life for Queen and country and here they are crucifying her. It makes me mad when people get torn apart even though they did what they thought was right."

"Just like your grandmother." Mallory nodded in understanding before chuckling. "You two are very similar in personality and temperment."

"Maybe a little too similar. It's probably the reason we don't really get along. Put two equally stubborn and headstrong people in the same room and there's bound to be trouble."

"True, but I think she's very fond of you." I looked at him in surprise. "Don't give me that look, Tracy. I've known your grandmother from the time your mother was a little girl. There's more to her than you realize. As I'm sure there's more to you than what meets the eye." We drove past the courthouse where the inquiry was to be held. Reporters, camera crews and photographers were crowded outside like a flock of vultures waiting for carrion. "Go around, use the side entrance." Mallory ordered the driver. "Thought you didn't need to go through that." He explained to me as the car turned into an underground garage.

"Thank you for taking me, Mr. Mallory." I said after we got out and began walking to the security checkpoint.

"You're welcome. And don't worry, I know your grandmother won't allow us to destroy MI6's reputation that easily."

* * *

I sat in the gallery behind where Grandmother would be sitting. When she came in with Bill and another young woman, they offered me a little smile before sitting down. The young woman sat down next to me. Dressed in a conservative charcoal gray pantsuit, I thought she was pretty with her curly black hair and wide brown eyes. "I trust you're Tracy?" She asked politely.

She must work for Grandmother at MI6. "Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you, Ms...?"

"Just call me Eve." She shook my hand. We chatted politely about little things before the hearing was officially called.

True to Mallory's prediction, Grandmother returned the questions with ironclad answers. The worst of the Inquisition, MP Claire Dowar was ruthless. I gripped my arm rests so tightly that the blood seemed to drain out of my fingers and I almost bit my tongue off, holding back the angry words.

Through it all, Mallory watched, a wry smile on his face. After what seemed like forever, Dowar asked Grandmother. "Well, do you have anything to say before we close this inquiry?"

Grandmother took a deep breath and drew herself up like a queen. "Chair, members of the board. Today I've repeatedly heard how irrelevant my department has become. 'Why do we need agents, the Double O section, isn't it all antiquated?' I suppose I see a different world than we do. And the truth is that world frightens me. I'm frightened because our enemies are no longer known to us. They do not exist on a map. They're not nations. They're individuals.

"Look around you. Who do you see? Who do you fear? Do you see a face, a uniform, a flag? No! Our world is not more transparent, it's more opaque! It's in the shadows! That's where we must do battle. So, before you declare us irrelevant let me ask you this. How safe do you feel?"

A hush fell over the air. For once, Dowar looked chastised. Mallory gave a soft nod, silently proud of Grandmother. As she and Bill began gathering up their papers, Grandmother looked up. "Just one more thing to say. My late husband and granddaughter are great lovers of poetry. And some of it sunk in despite my best intentions. Yesterday, as I was getting ready for this inquiry, I remembered this from Tennyson's Ulysses. 'We are not now that great strength which in old days moved Earth and Heaven. That which we are, we are. One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will. To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield.'"

I mouthed the words along with her, finally understanding my grandmother as she was. A small and fail woman with a heart and resolve as strong as iron. And I couldn't help to not only admire that but also be proud of the woman sitting before me.

**BANG!** The great doors flew open, crashing against the walls. We all turned to look. Standing there were three police officers. I could hear my grandmother gasp. The lead police officer began firing at the other police in the room. People began screaming and ducking under chairs and tables.

"Get down!" Eve hissed, yanking me down to the floor. Instinctively, I curled into the fetal position and watched helplessly. Because the courthouse didn't allow others to have firearms, I had left my Smith and Wesson back at Bond's flat. I studied the lead officer as he walked closer to Grandmother. He was much bigger than Grandmother in not only height but body. Thick dark blonde hair stuck out from under his cap. His long and pale face held a sadistic grin and his eyes were cold.

It's him...Silva...how the hell did he get out?!

Grandmother held herself up, a grim and determined look set on her face. She was ready to die. "No..." I whispered, wanting to get up and push her out of the way. Eve kept a firm grip on me, keeping me from rushing up and getting shot. Just when I thought it was all over, Mallory pushed Grandmother from behind. **BANG!** Silva fired at Mallory, striking him in the arm. He fell back, yelling in pain. Bill scooted Grandmother to the other side of the table.

Silva and his goons began firing off another round, striking the response team who had come. I caught the sight of a door off to the side opening quietly. Bond slipped in, holding his Walther PPK. He caught sight of Eve and me hiding by the witness table. Carefully, he slid one of the fallen officer's guns across the floor with his foot. Eve grabbed it, got into a safe position and opened fire.

I don't know what prompted Silva to look in my direction. But he did. Gone was my confidence when those cold eyes looked down at me. I saw nothing but evil in his eyes. He smiled at me, there was something sick and twisted about it. I couldn't move. I couldn't even scream. Come on, Tracy! Get out of there! But it was like I had been frozen.

**BANG!** Bond fired from his safe position at the doorway. Silva ducked. I took my chance and scrambled to find a new hiding place. Bond grabbed my jacket collar and gently pulled me into the doorway. "Get behind me." He hissed before firing at a fire extinguisher. **WHOOSH!** The compressed air rushed out, filling the room in a white fog. He fired at another on the other side of the room. More fog filled the room. Now Silva couldn't see a thing.

Using the distraction, Mallory and Bill rushed Grandmother over to us. I fought back the urge to hug her. She wasn't hurt, thank you, God. "Come on, you need to get them of here, Bond." Mallory passed me something and more or less pushed out of the door.

I took a look at what it was he passed me. It was his car keys. "The underground garage. Mallory's letting us borrow his car." I said.

"Remind me to send him a thank you note." Bond said, leading the way to the underground garage. I unlocked the car using the remote. Grandmother and I got into the back, Bond took the driver's seat. "Oh and Miss Draco?" He gave me my Smith and Wesson. "Try not to forget it next time?"

"Not like I could take a gun into the courthouse." I said as the car rushed out of the garage.

"Are you kidnapping us, Bond?" Grandmother said, relieved.

"That's one way to look at it." Bond said, turning into a busy street.

"Ok, I think I need a refresher course. Who is Silva and why does he want revenge on you so badly, Grandmother?" I asked.

Grandmother explained about Raoul Silva, how he was once an agent for MI6 who double crossed the Chinese and how Grandmother more or less turned him in. As I listened, Grandmother gripped my hand comfortingly. It was the first time I ever remember her doing that. "Too many people are dying because of me." She finished sadly.

"If he wants you, he's going to come get you. We've been one step behind Silva from the start. Time to get out into the front, change the game." Bond said.

"And I'm to be the bait?" Grandmother asked. Bond and I passed each other a look in the rearview mirror. I knew he would never put Grandmother in a situation where she was in danger. But we didn't have a choice. "All right." Grandmother sighed. "But just us. No one else."

A call came in on the car phone. "Bond, Tanner told me you're in Mallory's car." It was Q.

"Yes, I've got M and Tracy. I need help. We're about to disappear."

"What?!" Q sounded shocked.

"I need you to lay a trail of breadcrumbs impossible to follow for anyone except except for Silva. Think you can do that?" He asked.

There was a pause before Q whispered. "I'm guessing this isn't strictly official."

"Not even remotely." Bond turned another corner.

"So much for my promising career in espionage." Q mumbled. "Ok, I'll help."

"Thank you, Q." Bond said.

It was also at that moment I decided that was the last time Raoul Silva would see me afraid. I was going to fight back alongside Bond and Grandmother. If it cost my life, so be it.

I wasn't going to give the bastard anymore satisfaction the next time we met.

* * *

Bond drove us all throughout London before we finally left the city. Using back roads and major roads, we made way into the port city of Southampton. By this time, the sun had gone down and the car was low on petrol.

We stopped at a rental garage on the end of the city. Grandmother and I got out and followed Bond to a rental unit. "We're not hiding in there if that's your brilliant plan." Grandmother said sarcastically.

"We're changing vehicles. The trouble with company cars is that they've got trackers. We need to get something less conspicuous." Bond opened the garage door and flipped on the lights. Inside was a beautiful silver-birch 1964 Aston Martin DB5. Bond walked up to it, I could see a look of pride in his face. I couldn't help but smile with him.

Grandmother, however, didn't share our enthusiasm. "Oh now, I suppose_ that's_ completely inconspicuous." She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Get in." Bond said. "Miss Draco, get in first, there's only two doors." He opened one of the doors and pulled down the driver's seat. I did as he said and got inside. Grandmother got in the front passenger seat as Bond replaced the driver's seat. Within seconds, the engine roared to life and we drove out.

Due to primitive shocks, the DB5 bounced on the asphalt road. "It's not very comfortable, is it?" Grandmother mentioned as we went through a light.

Bond flipped up the cover of the stick shift. Inside was a little red button...is that what I think it is? "You going to complain the whole way?" He asked, holding his thumb just above the button. Oh yes, it is.

"Oh, go on then, eject me. See if I care." Grandmother grumbled. After a few seconds, Bond lowered the cover.

"Aw, too bad. I wanted to see Grandmother learn how to fly." I couldn't help but grin ear to ear.

They looked at me through the rearview mirror. I saw the corner of Bond's lip turn into an amused grin. "There's one for the back seat too so don't get cheeky, _young lady_." Grandmother warned. "Where are we going?"

"Back in time." Bond said as we left Southampton. "Somewhere we'll have the advantage."

We were silent as we drove further north. The further we got into Scotland, the light pollution lessened and I could see more stars. I looked for Sagittarius, the teapot shaped centaur in the sky. Then I remembered that he wouldn't be seen until August.

For the first time in a long time, I remembered the stories Dad told me about the constellations, but Sagittarius was always my favorite because he was an archer like me. When I first competed, Dad and Mom even had a gold pendant shaped like his arrow made for me. It was my lucky charm...where was it? Oh yes, sitting in a jewelry box back in the flat. I hadn't worn it in so long...I guess it reminded me too much of Mom and Dad. I hadn't even practiced archery. They were the ones who encouraged me to take it on.

I was slowly getting tired. I lay down in the backseat, being bounced but still watching the skies. I drifted off.

* * *

The next thing I knew, I felt something thick and warm covering me. "...she's sound asleep." I heard Grandmother whispering. Part of me wondered if I was dreaming or half-awake. We had stopped moving. A warm hand rubbed my side gently.

"I often wonder how things could've been different." We started moving again. "Her mother was barely eighteen when she met and fell in love with a man with criminal connections in the States. I was worried about her safety so I forbade the match. Well, the first chance she got, she eloped with him. I never saw or spoke to her again. I kept my eye on them, from a distance of course. But I should've known there was nothing to worry about. They were happily together for eighteen years.

"Teresa was fifteen when her parents died in a road accident. The first time I met her was at the funeral. Understandably, she was a bitter and angry teenager. I was afraid to take her in at first. I was unsure how I could handle being with a granddaughter I barely knew. But Sean insisted...his cancer had been declared terminal. He had months left at most and wanted to spend time with Teresa before he died. I fear that any chance of my granddaughter and me being close died with him."

" And yet you still care about her very much." Bond said as we turned on a slow left curve.

Grandmother made a soft noise, almost like a scoff. "It's hard not to. She's been in my life six years. I see more and more of her mother in her everyday..."

Silence fell back over the car as I slipped into different dreams.

* * *

**A/N:** Again, here we are. I tried to do as much research on Bond's classic Aston Martin DB5 as I could. But I couldn't find out if it was a two seater or five seater (obviously I had to make it a five seater with two in the front and room for three in the back. I'm not great at cars at all, so if there's any problems, please tell me nicely and I'll fix it.

I'm also worried about M's talking to Bond about Tracy's past. Again, any constructive criticism would be much appreciated.


	4. Showdown at Skyfall

Showdown at Skyfall

* * *

Sunlight streaming through the car windows was what woke me up. The Aston Martin had stopped on the side of a desolate road. I sat up, feeling the blanket that had covered me fall off. Bond and Grandmother were outside, talking. I was about to get out and join them when I caught sight of the countryside.

We were inside a valley. Low clouds hung over us, threatening rain. This place was absolutely beautiful, even if it was gray and cold.

Grandmother and Bond returned to the car. "You're finally awake." She said as Bond started up the car.

"What time is it?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

"A little after eight in the morning." Bond said, not taking his eyes off the road. He seemed a little sharp. I knew better than to say anything else. We continued driving alongside the mountains, driving into a wooded area and then turning onto a dirt road. The road made the bumpy ride worse. There was an open gate made of cold gray stone, neglected by time. A lone iron stag stood on a pillar. Carved into the pillar was a lone word, worn away by time and weather;

SKYFALL.

The woods gave way to the gray brown frozen moorlands. The grand manor house at the end of the road was made of gloomy and cold gray stone. It was depressing.

"Christ." Grandmother said as we got out of the car. "No wonder you never came back."

"Mmm," Bond mumbled. Never came back...this was where he grew up...we were quiet as we went inside. The interior was just as lonely and bleak as the outside. There were a few pieces of furniture covered with dusty white sheets. Yet for looking so desolate, the house was warm. Somebody was living here.

"Well, well, well. James Bond." A loud booming voice filled the room. It belonged to a large elderly man with a thick white beard, dressed in a dark gray cardigan, worn matching trousers and a hunting cap on his head. An unloaded shotgun hung open on his arm. He smiled.

"Hello, Kincade." Bond said, I could see him smiling. "Tracy, M, this is Kincaide, the gamekeeper at Skyfall since before I was born."

"A pleasure." Kincaide shook our hands. I liked him, he reminded me of Grandpa. "High time you came back, boy. Never thought you would though."

"We don't have a choice." Bond said. "Kincade, more people are coming. People with guns."

* * *

While Kincaide and Bond talked, I looked around, eventually ending up where what once was the weapons room of Skyfall. I could see from the now empty cases that the owners of Skyfall were hunters and gun enthusiasts.

There was one rectangular wooden box left, gathering dust on an endtable. I recognized it as an archery case. I blew and brushed the dust off of the black wood. There was a crest carved into the cover; a proud stag, like that seen on the gate. Right beneath that was a motto.

"Orbis Non Sufficint?" I pronounced it aloud.

"The World is Not Enough." Bond said from the doorway. I saw he was holding an old hunting rifle in his hands.

"Family motto?" I asked as I opened it. Bond nodded. Sure enough, a large yew bow was resting inside. I picked it up, admiring it. "This is a beauty." I said, rubbing my hands over the smooth wood. I pulled on the bowstring, testing its strength. "This is in really good condition. Let's see if there's any arrows in here."

"That's a false bottom, lift it up and you should see some under there." I did as he said and sure enough, I found about twenty arrows with sharp broadheads and blunt field tips. There was also a bracer, a thumb guard and a small quiver. "I always made sure that case was stocked." Bond said.

"This was yours?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Is it all right if I use it when they show up?"

Bond nodded. "Now that I've learned pretty much all of my father's gun collection was sold off, we're going to have to make due with what we've got. We might need to make some more arrows though."

"Good thing I know how to do that." I said before watching Bond leave. I went to the desk to see if there was anything else I could use. There was nothing in the top drawer but a dusty old Swiss Army knife and a spool of twine. I was about to close it up but remembered something Dad had told me about. Something about an old hunting weapon he used as a boy and once showed me how to use...I got a handful of arrows out of the archery kit.

Sitting down, I measured a length of twine longer than the arrows before snipping it off with the Swiss Army knife and knotting both ends.

This had better work.

* * *

I went outside with my new archery kit and long piece of twine. Bond was setting up some old plates and vases on fenceposts to use as target practice. There was a dead tree not too far away. It looked suitable, I decided and carved an X into the bark to use as target practice.

Stepping back thirty paces, I looped one knot of the twine around a slit I had cut into an arrow, just before the fletching. Remembering what I had learned from Dad, I wrapped the other end around my palm three times, tucking the loose end beneath the loops. "Ok Trace, this is just like throwing darts or a baseball." I whispered as I wound up my arm.

**BOOM!** There was a very loud gunshot and the sound of china breaking. Startled, I let go too late. The arrow flew a few feet before sticking right into the marshy ground. "What the hell was that?!" I jumped.

"Sorry." Bond said, looking up from the old rifle.

"Jesus! Give me a warning next time before you shoot that thing!" My heart rate began calming down.

"Expect to hear a lot of it tonight." Bond turned back and raised his rifle. **BOOM!** Another china plate shattered.

"Show off." I muttered, wrapping my twine around another arrow. This time, I had succeeded in going farther. It landed at the base of the tree.

"What on earth are you doing?" Bond asked, coming up beside me.

"It's a Swiss arrow. It's basically using a slingshot to throw a dart." I prepared another arrow. "Dad taught me how to make them." I tried again. This time I hit the tree, a foot or two below the X. "He used them back when he was a Boy Scout, they were a survival weapon. Easy and quick to make and use." Fourth time should do it. I prepared my arrow and threw it. I hit right below the X. Enough practice with the Swiss arrow. Time to get out the big guns. "Obviously, you can tell I haven't done this in a while."

"Good thing too. Because you're not going to be fighting." I ignored him as I nocked an arrow in the bow and prepared my fighting stance. "There's an old HAM radio in the basement of the chapel, relic of World War II. Kincade tells me it's in good condition and still works. I'll give you a walkie-talkie with which we'll communicate. You'll be hiding out there and radioing for help if need be."

"That's what _you_ think." I let go of the arrow. **THUNK!** The arrow landed in the center of the X. Bond looked at me, his eyebrows arched slightly. "I think you'll agree that I'll be more useful inside the battle than out, Mr. Bond."

"James."

"What?" I looked at him in surprise.

"Call me James. Mr. Bond is my father's name." He looks at me seriously.

"James." I liked the way it sounded. "I think it suits you better."

"As does yours, Tracy." James smiled.

* * *

We spent the rest of the day arming and preparing the house for battle. Grandmother and I rigged the chandeliers and set up other booby traps while James and Kincade boarded up the windows with shutters with slits in them. At least I now had some protection while using my bow. I would be upstairs acting as a lookout and sniper while James, Grandmother and Kincade would be guarding the main part of the house.

Now it's silent. The sun's gone down and it's getting dark. All we can do now is wait. I'm upstairs preparing each of my sniper nests. Damn, it's getting cold. I shiver and pull my jacket closer to me. My legs are bare except for a pair of hose.

Footsteps sound from behind. It's James with a long coat. "Here. The nights get cold. It should fit you."

"Thank you, James." I said, taking off my jacket and allowing him to help me put it on. It's warm. "It really helps."

"You're welcome." James says. I happen to catch sight of an old photograph on an end table. It's of a man and woman. They look familiar. I study them. "My parents." James explains.

That explains a lot. "You look just like your dad, but you have your mom's eyes." I say. James doesn't automatically respond, there's a pained look in his face. I have a good guess what's happened to them. "I'm sorry about what happened to your parents."

"Thank you." James said.

Might as well tell him. "I was fifteen when mine died. How old were you?"

"Eleven."

"Do you ever...blame yourself for what happened?"

"No. There wasn't anything I could've done. It took me a long time to understand that. And you?"

It is my fault. I look out the window so he won't see me cry. "Still do. I was a wild child, nothing criminal or anything like that. Just did some pretty stupid things. Friend of mine was having a party while her parents were gone. I wanted to go, but my parents refused and actually grounded me. I got mad, actually told them I never wanted to see them again." I shake my head, scoffing. "That was the last thing I ever said to them."

"Did you sneak out?"

"Obviously. Parents found out a couple of hours later and went to get me. It was during a nasty rainstorm. Roads were terrible. You can figure out what happened next. Only thing that gives me any comfort is knowing that they were killed instantly. If I hadn't been stupid and stayed home...well, no use going down that road. Can't change what's happened."

"That's true." James turns my head to face his. He wipes my tear away with his thumb. To my surprise, he kisses me. It's a gentle and tender one, a comforting gesture. I wrap my hands beneath his arms and rub his spine. He massages my scalp, his thumb tickling the nape of my neck. We part, looking at one another nervously. How will this change things? Does it change them at all? I know James is a womanizer.

But he's treated me with a great deal of respect. He's taken care of Grandmother and me. Why?

"We should get going. Your Grandmother's looking for you." James says.

"Yeah." I say, relieved that he isn't going to mention anything more about the kiss. But I want to thank him for everything. "James?"

"Mmm?" He stops short of going out of the door.

But I can't say it. Why, I don't know. "Thanks for the coat."

"You're welcome." James says as we head downstairs. "She's in the library. I'm going to make one last sweep." I leave to find her. Grandmother is sitting on a sofa, looking over my Smith and Wesson. She doesn't look up when I come in. I sit down next to her.

"Hello Teresa." Grandmother says in a low voice.

"Hey." I say. "Ja...I mean Bond, told me you were looking for me."

"Is everything set upstairs?" She looks up.

"As good as we can get it. All we can do now is wait." I double check the arrows in my hip quiver. Along with the arrows in James' archery kit, I had fashioned some of my own. All of them got a makeover as the fletchings of the arrows are red, white and blue.

"For the American flag?" Grandmother asks, rubbing her fingers over the feathers.

"Union Jack." I chuckle. "Seemed appropriate."

"It does." She sighs. "I'm sorry, Teresa."

I think she's talking about Silva. "One way or another, Silva wasn't going to stop until he got us."

She stops me. "No, it's not that at all." I look at her. "The truth is...I see so much of your mother in you. I was still angry at her when I shouldn't have been. As a result, I pushed you away and was cold. I shouldn't have done that."

"We're both to blame." I tell her, resting my hand on hers. "Grandmother, I realized yesterday that I was completely wrong about you. You stood up to the inquiry and proved just how resolute you were. And I'm proud of you." I wipe a tear away.

"And l you." Grandmother squeezes my hand. A genuine smile comes over her face. I see my mother's face in hers. My heart feels better. I've resolved my conflict with Grandmother. Now we can start over.

We hear somebody come into the room and let go. It's James. He takes his spot by a window. We're silent. It's beginning to get unbearable. The tension in the air is so thick, it can be cut with a knife. "Can't believe it's come down to this." I say. "The four of us in a deserted house out in the middle of nowhere with improvised weapons."

"Mmm." James nods.

"I really fucked this one up, didn't I?" Grandmother says after a while.

"No. You did your job. At the end of the day, that's the only thing what matters." James says, not looking back. He tenses up.

"They're coming, aren't they?" I ask.

"Get upstairs. You know what to do, Tracy."

"Yes sir." I let go of Grandmother's hand and give one last look at James. "Good luck, both of you."

"You too." Grandmother says as we split up. I head upstairs to one of the main bedrooms and get into position with my walkie. I watch James slip into his Aston Martin, ducking down. I hope he knows what he's doing.

"Is everyone in position?" James asks over the walkie.

"Kitchen and entryway is secure." Kincade responds.

"As are the dining room and living room." Grandmother responds.

"Upstairs is ready."

"As is the Aston. Here we go."

* * *

I watch the group of about twenty heavily armed men slowly advance our way. "Tracy, how does it look?" James asks after a while.

"I count twenty. They're armed to the teeth. I don't think Silva's with them as I can't see him." They walk past the Aston. "They just passed the car and are surrounding the house in a semi-circle." One rushes to the front door and I see him taking something out. "Somebody's going to the door. He's got something in his hand. I think it's an explosive device." Best get ready. I open the window and prepare my bow.

Something happens with the Aston Martin. I see two tubes sticking out of the front bumper. They begin to fire. The group turns to attack the car. Now!

I take aim and fire. The arrow flies through the slit and strikes a man in the neck. He's down. Yes! I prepare another arrow and fire. His buddy next to him goes down. I've got to move before they notice somebody's firing arrows at them from behind!

Crouching, I make my way to the next window. The car is peppered with gunshots and the driver's door opens. James comes out with his rifle and begins firing. Prepare another one! I nock an arrow and fire. Third guy down, this time with a shot to the back of the head. I feel pretty confident of myself. I pick off another one. Move!

**BOOM!** There's a loud explosion downstairs from the front door. The men ignore James and rush inside. Oh no! James follows after them. I find a spot on the stairs where I can fire through the banisters.

**BANG!** "Welcome to Scotland!" I hear Kincaide yelling from the kitchen. **BOOM!** I see one of the floorboard traps we set up going off, killing two people.

Three are backing their way to the stairs. I can't prepare and fire fast enough to take the three of them out. That's when I remember the chandelier we've rigged. It's connected to a handle on the wall beside me. Perfect! I unloop the decorative chain holding the chandelier against the wall.. **CRASH!** Like in _Phantom of the Opera_, the chandelier swings into them and knocks them down They don't move. Yes!

"I always wanted to do that." I grin and sneak my way downstairs.

**BANG!** a loud series of explosions ring from the dining room. Grandmother must've activated her explosive rigged chandelier. I catch sight of another one of Silva's men heading into the dining room. Preparing another arrow, I rush over, not firing.

**BANG!** There's a gunshot from the dining room. Grandmother cries and drops the Smith and Wesson. The bad guy goes in for the kill. Now! I fire, hitting him in the head. He drops. It's quiet. The fight's over.

I sling my bow across my shoulder. "Are you ok?!" I run over to Grandmother. She's bent over and gripping her side.

"Only my pride. I never was a good shot." Grandmother smiles at me, trying to convince me. But I know she's lying. She's gritting her teeth too much to really mean it.

James comes in, having picked up one of the automatic weapons from a fallen guard. "None of them is Silva." Kincaide follows behind James.

There's a loud whirring noise coming over the plain along with the sound of music playing. I look out the window. My face turns cold. This is not good.

A military helicopter is making its way to the house. The loudspeakers hanging off are playing a familiar song.

_Boom, boom, boom, boom. Gonna shoot you right down._

* * *

Kincaide and Grandmother look at the helicopter, just as shocked as I am. "Always has to make an entrance, hasn't he?" James mumbles. "Into the kitchen! Move!" We run into the kitchen as the machine guns on the helicopter start firing. Glass shatters. Wood splinters. James pulls a latch on the wall open. It opens,revealing a priest hole. "Kincaide, get M and Tracy to the chapel! I'll try to draw their fire!"

No! "I'm not leaving you." I say.

"Tracy, go." James puts his hand gently on my shoulder. "I'll be ok. I promise." But I can tell from his eyes that he's not so sure.

But I don't want him to get hurt. He's risked so much to help us. All because he wanted to. And now he's facing almost certain death.

That's when I finally understand everything. I am falling in love with James Bond.

"Go!" James says, pushing me into the priest hole. The panel locks from behind. We begin walking as fast as we can, Kincaide in front with a torch and me leading up the rear.

The tunnel is narrow, lit only by lights hanging from wires. "Ah!" Grandmother stops and bends over. I see her sticky wet red hand. She's hurt...

She's too weak. I can carry her. "Think you can put your arms around my neck?" I ask. For once, Grandmother obeys as I pick her up, latching her cool fingers behind my neck. She feels so tiny in my arms. "It's ok, Grandmother. It's going to be ok. Just hang on." I soothe.

I have to be strong now. Grandmother needs me.

We reach the other end, coming out onto the cold moors. **BOOM!** There is a loud explosion from the manor house, the loudest one yet. The ground quakes. We look back at the house. A fireball rips through the house, hitting the chopper. We watch in amazement as the chopper begins to fly into the burning wreck of the house. It crashes. The explosion gets louder, the house turns into flaming pieces of shrapnel.

No.

No.

Nobody could've survived that. James is surely dead. My heart hurts, much worse this time. Another one I lost.

There's trouble. I see shadows of people getting up and heading to the house. I see Kincaide's torch. It'll turn us into sitting ducks. They'll see it across the moors. That's unless I can stop them.

My mind is made up. I put Grandmother down. She leans against Kincaide. "Kincade, get her to the chapel. Use the HAM radio to call for help." I say, grabbing the torch out of his hand.

"Where do you think you're going?" Grandmother asks me. She winces as her hand presses to her side.

"Going Silva hunting. If I can lure him into the woods, I can pick him off from above. It's the only way to stop him."

"Tracy..."Grandmother traces my face. I see it in her eyes.

She doesn't want me to go.

But she knows I have to.

"Promise me you'll be careful." She says, her voice cracking.

I kiss her cheek, the first time I ever remember giving my Grandmother a kiss. "I'll be ok. Trust me. Now go!" I order before running off in another direction.

I need to lure Silva away. I need to buy time to save Grandmother. I need to avenge James.

* * *

It's rough going even with the help of the torch. I trip over the trampled ground, upturned tree roots and slip on patches of ice. Several times I have to stop and reorient myself.

I look back. Against the burning backdrop of Skyfall Manor, I see a lone figure walking after me. It's a slow and determined walk. Not a running one. The figure is big and hulking.

It's Silva. My plan is working so far. Move! I pick up the pace and run. Time's of the essence. I need to get into those woods before Silva catches up.

The woods get closer. But it always feels like he's right behind me. I make it into the safety of the trees. He's still a good distance away. Yes! Now find a tree to climb and get up there.

I need a tree that is high enough that I can use my bow yet have enough foilage to hide me from Silva. Too tall. Too short. Too bald. I find a large oak tree. Perfect! Now to climb it! I throw the torch so he could find it before finding a foothold and pulling myself up.

I get onto a low hanging tree limb that's strong enough to support my weight. The leaves and branches above give me plenty of cover.

But I can't use my bow without it brushing against the leaves and blowing my cover. I'll have to use my Swiss arrow.

As Silva stumbles his way through the trees, I prepare another arrow. That's it. I kneel on the limb. Come on, you bastard. Come on. I wait for him to come closer, holding my arrow at the ready.

My heart pounds. I try to breathe as shallowly as possible and to stay still. He stops at the torch and pauses. Something's in his hand. No time to find out what it is though.

This is for you, James...

I throw my arrow but notice that he's launching an explosive device off me. Get out of the way! I jump clear, landing on the ground. My ears ring and my ankles hurt but not too bad.

**BOOM! CRASH!** There's a deafening noise. Something heavy falls on my chest. I hear something cracking.

Then the pain starts. Oh God the pain! Every nerve in my chest and abdomen screams. God it hurts! I scream in agony.

I want to die! Please let me die! I want to be with Mom, Dad and James!

"Peekaboo." Silva huffs and puffs as he limps closer. "You're such a good shot Miss Draco." I hear him chuckle. "Too bad your arrow didn't do much damage." He stops just short of me. "That tree limb hit you very hard, didn't it, darling? Let me help you." He says softly. I feel the tree limb pinning me down being lifted off of me.

I want to run. I want to hide. But I'm in too much pain.

"Mommy's been very bad to us both." I feel him picking me up. It intensifies and I writhe weakly. Not that it does any good. He looks down at me. I see his cold hateful eyes and smile. God, let this be a nightmare. I want to wake up and find out that this is a just a bad dream. "She's hurt you just as much as she's hurt me. She's left you here to die all alone." He begins walking. "All snug and warm inside that little chapel."

I begin slipping in and out. My mind is trying to get me to pass out so the pain won't be as bad. But I can still hear him. "You look just like your mother. Oh, of course I know what your mother looks like, darling. Mommy had a framed picture of her on the desk when we worked together. Every day, she used to look at it and she'd look so sad."

It hurts. Good God does it hurt! But I'd much rather take the pain than stare into Silva's cold and twisted face.

We stop. Silva puts me down on something wet and cold. It's ice. I can just barely make out the chapel a few yards away. "Mother, come out! I know you're in there! Come out or I'll shoot Teresa!" He yells in a mocking voice.

"Don't do it..." I cry out. Even warning hurts too much. "He'll kill me anyway..." I gasp. It's getting harder to breathe.

"She's right, you know. Originally, I just wanted you to die. But then I saw your granddaughter at the inquiry. She's so beautiful, Mommy. I can see why you love her so much. And now I'm going to take her away from you. Think on your sins." Silva takes something out of his coat pocket. It looks like a flare gun.

Oh no he's not going to...**BANG!** A blinding flash of light and a loud explosion blind me. I begin falling into fire.

* * *

We must've crashed through the ice. The ice water burns. I feel the wind get punched out of me, just barely managing to not exhale. Get up, Tracy! Get air! I kick my way to the surface and gasps in cold air. Silva grabs me from behind and pulls me under before I have a chance to catch my breath.

My time is running out. Kicking and punching, I try to get free. But Silva has a death grip, wanting to make sure I drown with him. No! I won't let him win! But it's so hard... my lungs are fighting to burst. Silva begins pulling us deeper, wrapping a large hand around my throat and squeezing. No! I begin swallowing water.

**SPLASH!** I hear a loud noise above me. What is that? Silva lets go of me and I can feel a struggle happening behind me. I know that I have to get air while I still have strength.

But I can't move. I feel like I am dreaming the events at Skyfall. That at any moment, I will wake up in my warm bed back at the safe flat in London. I begin sinking, feeling suspended in the cold water.

But the dulling pain reminds me that this is real.

I am drowning.

The struggle behind me stops. What's happened? An arm wraps around my waist. Is that Silva? I try fighting back but am too weak to have any real effect. **BANG!** There is a loud explosion by my ear and a bright flash. What is that?

The person holding me begins swimming up, keeping a firm but gentle grip on me. Now what? We break the surface. My rescuer gasps in air. But I still feel like I am dreaming. Am I breathing? Am I alive?

"Here we are, son!" Kincade calls out. There is a splash and thump near us. My numb hand brushes against a rope. "That flare worked!"

We reach the shore and the person gently puts me down. "She's not breathing..." I hear Grandmother hovering above me. Two fingers touched my neck, feeling for a pulse. Somebody holds my nose and pulls my lower jaw down. I feel lips touching mine and air being blown into my mouth. Hands push down on my breastbone in rhythm.

"Come on, breathe...damn you, Tracy, breathe!" James yells.

Air. I need air. I begin coughing, sputtering up water. Air. Sweet, crisp, clean, fresh cold air. As painful as it is to breathe, the air tastes so good. Somebody rolls me on my side and slaps my back to help me cough up the water.

My sight begins to clear as I roll onto my back. Kincade, Grandmother and James' faces are above me, looking at me. James is soaking wet and shivering.

James...he's the one who pulled me out...

There is a distant sound of a whirring motor. Kincade and Grandmother look up. But James keeps his eyes on me. "They're here. Tracy, don't you dare let go." Grandmother orders me as James scoops me up. An air ambulance has landed near the chapel. They must've used the HAM radio to call for help...

I grip onto life by a thread. But I can feel myself beginning to slip away. I see Kincade helping Grandmother to the chopper. "Make sure they take care of Tracy first..." Grandmother protests, her voice is fading away.

James climbs onto something, maybe it's the chopper. "Get her onto the gurney." A voice calls out. James lowers me onto what felt like a bed. No. I don't want him to let me go.

"No..." I grip his cold wet jacket. "No..."

Pain...unbearable pain...want to sleep...want to die...look at him.

James' blue eyes are the last thing I saw before I pass out.

* * *

**A/N:** Here we are, the longest chapter so far! And no, the story's not over...

But I'm worried about her realization that she's beginning to fall in love with James.


	5. Fallout

**A/N:** I started an intense six-week coursework so I might not update as often as I used to.

I also changed when the story is set. It's now set in November, not March.

* * *

Fallout

The air smells of antiseptic cleaner. It's a hospital smell. I lazily blink. I can't see shapes. Just blurs and dull colors. My limbs are heavy and warm; I've been doped up on very strong painkillers.

"She's awake, doctor." A voice says, far away.

A new one joins in. It's a woman's voice. "Good. Tracy? Can you hear me? Blink once if you can." Yes. I can hear him. I blink. "Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?" Another useless command. My fingers and toes hurt. But I can move them. "Very good. Do you know what today is?"

Why do I care? Why am I supposed to care? A name comes to mind. A male name. A strong name. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. "James?" I whisper. Nobody answers. I want James. I need James. "James?" I try again.

"What does she want?"

Can't they hear me? Can't they hear me calling for James? "I...want...James..." I try again.

"She's asking for Bond." A familiar voice responds. It sounds like Bill Tanner. What's he doing here?

"Get him then." The doctor orders gently. Someone leaves. "It's ok, Tracy. He's coming now."

A new figure appears after a few moments. Again, it's too blurry to tell who it is. I think it's a man. "Tracy?" It's James. A large warm hand rests on mine. It's familiar. I try to sit up. "No. No." Another hand rests on my shoulder. "Go back to sleep, Tracy."

"Don't...go..." I mumble as another round of medication kicks in. Warm and safe.

"I'm not. I'm staying here." Something warm touches my forehead. It feels like somebody's lips.

Darkness.

* * *

Predawn light wakes me up. A machine is beeping next to the bed I'm lying in. The hospital bedroom window overlooks St. Martin-in-the-Fields, I'm back in London. I still feel doped up. Judging from the dull pulsing in my sides, this is a good thing. How did I get here? What's the last thing I remember?

A car ride...a house...a bow...odds and ends of things...fire...pain...ice...water...air...

How long have I been out?

"Tracy?" It's Bill Tanner. He's sitting in a chair next to my bed. "How are you feeling?" He looks tired.

"Like somebody high on painkillers should feel." I mumble. Bill chuckles. "Something tells me I should be grateful."

"You're lucky that you got away with only two fractured ribs and a moderate case of hypothermia last night. We almost lost you, Tracy."

Foggy memories. Skyfall. Kincaide. Fire. Ice. Water. Pain. Silva. James. "What happened to Silva, Kincaide and James?" I ask.

"Silva's dead. Kincaide is overseeing the cleanup effort in Glencoe, sends his regards. And Bond is resting at home. He didn't want to leave you. Mallory had to more or less order him to go home." Something is wrong. Bill sounds guarded, like he has bad news and is unsure of how to break it.

"Thank God." Something else. Grandmother was hurt. "And Grandmother?"

He sighs. Oh no... "She hid the fact she was injured as best she could, trying to ensure that you received prompt treatment. By the time she collapsed at hospital in Glencoe, she had lost a great deal of blood and had severe internal injuries. Both of you were airlifted to London shortly afterwards. It's a miracle she survived the night but she might not make it…"

Might not make it. Might die.

I want to cry. I want to scream. But I can't. All I can do is lie here, trying to feel something, anything. Yes, I can feel something. I feel cheated. Just when we were beginning to patch things up...fate had to go and slap me in the face again.

And like before, this is my fault. If I hadn't tried to play hero then she'd probably be ok. She would've been in pain but her survival wouldn't have been in doubt.

The door opens. A doctor comes in. "Ah, you're finally awake, Miss Draco. How're you feeling?"

"I'm all right. Can I see my Grandmother, please?" I ask tentatively.

"No, I'm sorry. She's too weak to be seen by anyone. Mr. Tanner, can I ask you to please to step outside?" Bill squeezes my hand before leaving.

The doctor is chatty, talking about the weather, movies and other useless mindless things while she checks my vitals. But I just sit here, quietly mourning for something that I've had all along but was too selfish to realize.

* * *

I'm discharged shortly after the doctor examines me and gives me a prescription for painkillers. Only orders are to take it easy and to remember to breathe. Bill offers to stay with me at the flat. But I politely decline and tell him to go home and rest. The rest of the day is spent trying to catch up on missed homework and waiting for the hospital to call with news of Grandmother. But it never comes.

It happens when I'm preparing some chamomile tea before I go to bed. Numbly focused on my thoughts, I don't notice that I've actually prepared two cups. Why did I do that? Grandmother is still in hospital, I don't need to make tea for her. My own stupid fault.

That's when the realization finally sinks in.

I might not have harmed them directly. But it's my fault that all of my loved ones got hurt or killed. Mom and Dad died because I was stupid and had broken curfew. Grandmother and James could've died because of me. And I only have myself to blame.

Screaming, I begin throwing everything I can get my hands on. My anger, hatred and rage pour out in a stream of curses, sobs and screams. It's a wonder the neighbors don't hear me.

The air turns stiflingly hot. I can't breathe. I need to get out. Get fresh air.

As clichéd as it sounds, the next thing I know, I'm standing on the balcony outside my room, leaning over the railing and gasping deep breaths. A frigid wind blows, making me shiver. Down below, London is moving along even though it's late at night.

I feel better. It hurts to breathe, but I'm feeling much better.

I still feel guilt. I have to live with this for the rest of my life...time now seemed like an endless sea. A sea I would have to cross alone. I can't do that. Not on my own.

But who could understand how I feel? Nobody. I slump into a corner of the railing, huddling. Part of me wishes this was a dream. I want to wake up.

There's the sound of the balcony doors opening behind me. Who's that? "Tracy?" It's James. "What are you doing out here without a coat on?"

"Ever hear of a text message?" I say in a tired voice, not turning around. "I know you have my number."

"Didn't think you'd answer." I hear him come closer to me. "And from the look of things, I can tell that you wouldn't have." Silence between us. The only sound in the air is the wind blowing through the city and the sounds of the passerby below. James calmly and gently puts a warm hand on my shoulder. His blue eyes are sympathetic and caring. "Come on. Let's get out of the cold, hmm?" James holds out his other hand. I numbly take it and allow him to guide me inside. "There. Much better." He locks up the balcony doors.

"Did Bill ask you to check in on me?" I ask as I sit down on my bed.

"No." James says, joining me on the bed. We look at each other. He's concerned for me. He came because he was worried about me. I can't help but feel heartened. James' hand brushes my hair back behind my ears. I tense when I feel his thumbnail scratch my hairline. Once again, he's looking at me, wanting me.

This time, I want him back.

Overwhelmed with emotion, I kiss him. After a moment, his arms wrap around me. I hold his head gently in my hands, feeling his warmth. His mouth moves off my mouth and down my neck. James' kisses, while gentle, betray a hungry passion. It gets stronger as he begins unbuttoning my blouse. Likewise, my clumsy fingers try to unzip his fleece jacket. I eventually succeed and feel the soft cotton of his t-shirt underneath. My hands can feel just how warm he is.

The dull pain is gone, I realize as James gently rubs my chest. Not just the physical pain of my broken ribs but my heart. It feels content, satisfied. I'm not alone after all. He cares about me. Why else would he be so gentle?

"I love you James..." I gasp as he kisses the space where my neck meets my chin. He pauses and looks at me. Now what? Was that something I shouldn't have said? Oh please don't leave me...not now..."I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." I turn away.

"No." He turns my head back to face him. James' blue eyes have a different look...one of wanting...he kisses me again, firmly on my mouth. I feel his hands unhooking my bra.

* * *

I wake up in my bedroom to the sound of my phone alarm going off. It's nine in the morning. Groaning, I lean over to turn it off. That's when I notice that I have an unread text message from Bill Tanner. Oh no…I hold my breath as I check it. 'M is awake and alert. Asking for you ASAP.'

She made it…she's going to be ok…I feel elated until I feel the person lying next to me turning over. Who is…when I turn, I see James asleep. He looks so peaceful there, his chest slowly rising and falling. That's right…why don't I regret this? I feel so much…better…

Grandmother can wait. I decide as I send back a reply that I'll be at hospital by noon. As I lie back down, I can feel James pulling me closer to him.


	6. A Favor Asked

A Favor Asked

At noon, James drives me to hospital. It's incredibly awkward. One would think we'd be more talkative after that night of passion. But I'm unsure of what to say. From his far away gaze, I can tell he doesn't know what to say either. That's so odd seeing James Suave Bond without a witty comeback or sarcastic retort. But I kind of like the quiet and reflective James Bond. There's something intriguing about him.

It's not until we're alone inside the hospital lift that James finally speaks. "Did Tanner say why she wanted to see you?"

"No." I shake my head. "Only that she was asking for me." Might as well bring it up. "James…about last night…"

"There's no need to talk about it if you don't want to." James interrupts, sounding brusque.

"No, I…I do. I just wanted to say that…I'm glad you spent last night with me at the flat. It means a lot to me, it really does."

"You're welcome." James smiles as we stop. The doors open. Bill is waiting outside Grandmother's room. His relaxed face tells me that we have nothing to fear. "So how is the patient?"

"Very good." Mallory says, his bandaged arm in a sling. "Bond, you're the very man I wished to see."

"Duty calls." James says before walking off to join Mallory.

"She's waiting for you, Tracy." Bill smiles and nods at me to go inside. I head into the room.

Grandmother is sitting upright in bed, hooked to IV's and machines. Her short white hair looks unkempt and she's paler than I remember. But she's there. She's going to be ok. "Hi, Grandmother." I say, walking over and hugging her. She gives me a cool kiss on the cheek.

"Hello Tracy." She says tiredly. "Where have you been? I was about to send Tanner over and find out why you couldn't be here until noon."

I'm so glad she didn't…that would've been so embarrassing if he had caught James and me together. "Well, I wasn't able to fall asleep until early this morning." That's true. "I was worried you weren't going to…"

"I understand." Grandmother looks at me suspiciously. "How are you feeling?"

Thank God, she's not going to say any more. "I'm fine. My chest hurts but I'll live. And you?"

"Tracy, I've been shot in the side. How else am I supposed to feel?" Grandmother says sarcastically. I chuckle.

"At least you haven't lost your sense of humor." I sit down next to her.

* * *

After an hour or so of us talking, the doctor comes in. "Miss Draco, may I ask you to step outside for a few minutes please?"

"Of course, doctor. I'll be right back." I tell Grandmother, kissing her on the cheek and stepping out. James is standing by the nurse's station, waiting for me.

"How is she?" He asks as I walk to him.

"She's going to be ok."

"Good. Tracy, can we go somewhere quiet to talk?"

"Yeah, sure." I follow James to a quiet doorway. Uh oh…what's wrong now? "Is something wrong?" I ask.

"Mallory's sent me on an assignment. I don't know how long I'll be gone nor will I answer my mobile or emails."

"Ok." I say, a little disappointed. I'm going to miss him, that's for sure. "So, why are you telling me this?"

"Just thought I'd let you know. I've become rather…fond…of you, Tracy."

He's fond of me…does that mean he… "Well you be very careful and come back in one piece, you hear? Otherwise I'll track you down and kill you."

"Yes ma'am." James chuckles as he kisses my cheek. It's not a passionate kiss. An affectionate one, certainly. But not like last night. "You take care of your Grandmother." He says before leaving.

I watch him walk away before remembering something. "James?" I say. He turns around to look at me. Now I can't say it, why, I don't know. It came so easily last night… "Good luck."

"Thank you." He says before leaving. I kick myself for the words I've wanted to say but somehow haven't been able to.

I love you, James Bond.

* * *

Seven weeks pass before the next time James and I meet. It's Christmas Eve. Instead of wrapping presents or celebrating with friends, I'm lying in bed with a nasty head cold. "It's your workload, Tracy." Grandmother says as she leaves me a cup of tea and chicken soup. "You've been working too hard at school and not taking care of yourself."

"Is it me or is this a case of the pot calling the kettle black?" I moan, sipping the hot soup as slow as I can. "Doctor ordered you to stay in bed and take it easy when you were released. But did you do that? No. You're right back at MI6 helping out Mallory and Bill. At least school's over until mid-January."

The lift doors ring, the sound reverberating makes my headache worse. That's probably Bill, come to take Grandmother to the Christmas party Mallory is hosting. "I'll give your holiday greetings then." Grandmother gently kisses my cheek. I can smell her faint perfume.

"Thanks and have fun." I say as she leaves.

"I will, Tracy." Grandmother closes my bedroom door. I put my soup bowl back on the nightstand and roll onto my now healed side. My hand tucks under my pillow and I can feel the postcard that came in the mail two days ago. James must've sent it. Gently pulling it out, I study it. It's of the Swiss Alps, a generic image. He only addressed it to me, no other words are visible on the thick paper. I realize that I miss him. I wish he was here.

I doze off, watching the snow fall outside my window.

* * *

I wake up, feeling that I'm not alone. Somebody is lying against my back. I open an eye and see a familiar hand holding a sprig of mistletoe over my head. I smile and chuckle. "I don't think anyone should spend Christmas by themselves." James whispers in my ear before kissing the back of my neck. I carefully roll over. James is lying there, dressed in a leather coat and black trousers. His blonde hair is wet, no doubt from the snow outside.

He kisses me, his hand gripping a large swath of my hair. I've missed that. "What are you doing here?" I ask. "Does Mallory know?"

"I decided to grant myself a two-day leave." James smirks.

"I won't say a word. You're quite the Christmas present. Actually, I was wishing you were here just now."

"Well, here I am." James rubs my spine, his fingers going over every bone. My toes curl. Hmm…so wonderful.

"I'm also here to ask for your help."

"What kind of help?" I ask.

"Your father had dealings with a man called Ernst Stavro Blofeld. Does that name sound familiar?" James says.

It does. "Yes, they worked together on a couple of projects around the time of the accident. Blofeld attended the funeral and told me to let him know if I need anything at all. I haven't spoken to him since. Why do you ask?"

James gets up and closes the door. I sit up. "What I'm about to tell you is confidential. Mallory won't be pleased when he learns that I've asked for outside help."

"It won't leave this room." I say as he sits back down next to me.

"I've been investigating Blofeld in regards to the terrorist organization SPECTRE and have reason to believe that he'll be launching an attack on not only London but Washington D.C. as well."

"So why do you need my help?" I ask.

"Blofeld is a very secretive man. He only welcomes people he trusts into his inner circle. Since he's done business with your father…"

"…you need me to open the door." I finish the sentence for him.

James laughs. "Not quite so blunt…but, yes. You're to go there pretending to want to know more about your father's company. I'll be with you as Hillary Bray, your bodyguard. You'll leave the day after Christmas. I'll meet you in Bern, Switzerland where Blofeld will be hosting a week long New Year's celebration with his various business associates at his Hotel Irma." He gives me an envelope, which I promptly put on my nightstand. "Inside is your visa and tickets from Heathrow. Use your passport. And pack your best clothing. Now. Since that's all settled…" He smiles mischievously.

I wince as the pressure increases behind my eyes. "I'd love to, James. But I have a really nasty head cold. Sorry for being a mood killer."

James feels my forehead. It feels so good. "Poor Tracy."

"Or do you mean poor James?" I smirk.

James blushes. "Ok, you caught me red-handed. I thought of you every day, Tracy. But if I can wait seven weeks, what's a couple more days?" James wraps a tendril of my hair around his index finger. Goosebumps rise on my skin. "But I'll stay with you until you go to sleep."

"Or if Grandmother comes home early." I laugh.

"Good point." James kisses me and holds me.


	7. The Hotel Irma

The Hotel Irma

By morning, I have my cover to tell Grandmother. She watches me pack my suitcase on Christmas night. "This is just a ten day holiday in Switzerland?" Of course she's a little suspicious, especially how quickly the opportunity came up.

"Yes, Mary and some friends worked it out to surprise me. We're going to Switzerland to celebrate New Year's. We're going to do some skiing, sightseeing, maybe even Italy or Germany for a day or two." I keep myself calm. Grandmother can tell when I haven't been honest. "Grandmother, you said it yourself. I need to relax and I think this is what I need. Mary worked really hard to make this happen and I did tell her I would go." Oh, please believe me. Oh, please believe me. I silently beg.

There's a pause. "You will keep in touch with me." Grandmother states more than asks.

I'm relieved. She's bought it. Or rather, she's chosen to not ask anymore. "You know I will." I smile and kiss her.

* * *

As he promised, James is waiting for me in Bern when my flight arrives in the mid afternoon. I catch sight of him waiting near the baggage claim, wearing his sunglasses. Part of me wants to go up to him and hug him. But I remember our cover. "Hello, Mr. Bray."

"Miss Draco, how was your flight?" James says, nodding politely at me while he gets my suitcase off the baggage carousel.

"Very good. How does everything look so far?" I ask as we leave the airport and go to the Aston Martin James rented.

"The rooms are set up at the Hotel Irma. Tonight is the party launching the event, invites are prepared. All that remains is for us to check in." James turned on the car and we began driving quickly through the streets of Bern. I grip the handle. "Do you _really_ have to drive this fast?"

"Do you really have to ask me that, Tracy?" James says as we turn a corner. I think I can see a smile on his face.

"Why do you have to be so charming?" I roll my eyes but fight to keep from laughing.

"Because it's the only way to get your attention." James smirks as we pull into the parking lot of the Hotel Irma. It was in the Old City of Bern. The warm brown sandstone hotel was once a convent renovated to match the 15th century style of the nearby buildings. Lacy curtains grace the many windows. The walled garden has many ice and snow sculptures.

The inside, however, had the trappings of a modern day hotel lobby, complete with a glass elevator overlooking the elegant room.

"Looks like Blofeld has kept his sense of style." I say as we walk to the counter.

"Only the best is what he says, Miss Draco." James gives me a knowing glance, reminding me to keep up the charade.

"Understandable." I say before turning my attention to the pretty receptionist. "Good afternoon, ma'am. My name is Teresa Draco and I have reservations for myself and Mr. Hillary Bray?" Out of the corner of my eye, I can see James studying the receptionist. A little tiny spark burns in me. Am I jealous?

"One minute," she turns to her computer. "Ah, yes. Everything is all ready to go for you, Miss Draco." She gives us two key cards. "Shall I call a bellhop to carry your suitcases to your suite?"

"I don't think that'll be necessary, thank you." I say, leading the way to the elevator. Fortunately, it's deserted. "You were staring at her." I whisper to James as the elevator rises.

"Don't tell me you're jealous."

"I'm not." I hiss. "I just think it would make it really difficult to do your job." The elevator doors ring and open.

"I'll do my job, Miss Draco." James says, hauling our bags out.

"I'm sure you will." I say as I follow him to our suite.

Fortunately, the suite is two separate bedrooms leading into a main living area. I go into my room with my bag while James goes into the other with his. It's a nice looking room, warm tones with soft silver colored bedding. Attached is a bathroom with a shower, tub and fine vanity.

As I unpack, I find the invite sitting on the desk in my room. The Lion's Den Salon in the Hotel will officially open at six. In polite society, it's proper to be fashionably late, so it'll really open at a quarter after. It's now half past four in the afternoon. The tub gives me an idea. I close up the drain and turn on the water.

* * *

"Mmm…" I sigh, sinking into the hot water. It feels so good. I pour some strawberry pomegranate scented soap on a sponge and begin washing myself, focusing on my neck and shoulders. After rinsing off the soap, I relax in the water until it turns lukewarm.

There's an odd feeling in the room, I realize. It's like somebody's watching me from the doorway. I turn and see James standing in the doorway, having quietly pushed the door open. He's watching me with a vague smile on his face. "Oh!"

"Hello." He says.

"Didn't your mother tell you that it's more polite to knock?"

"I was but forgot when I saw you." A corner of his lip turns up.

"Can't you please give me something to put on, if you don't mind?"

"Of course not." He picks up a pair of slippers, passes them to me and then sits down at the vanity chair. Resting his right ankle on his left knee, he watches.

"Have I told you how much I hate you today?" I toss the slippers at him.

He chuckles. "What are you so embarrassed about, Tracy? It's not like I haven't seen you naked before." James says with an innocent smile. "Besides, you _did_ tell me to give you something to put on. You weren't specific about what."

"Oh you…" I groan, finally giving in and standing up. I rinse off the suds as best I can. "Since I'm all clean, can you please pass me a towel? Not a washcloth or a hand towel but the one sitting on the corner of the sink, please?" James gets up and kindly passes me the large fluffy bath towel. "Thank you very much." I wrap myself up. "Now that the show is over, is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Peeping Tom?"

"For you." James takes something out of his pocket. It's a small box from a jewelry store. He opens it. Inside is a silver bracelet, a dime sized piece of black onyx is centered in the middle, polished. "The stone is a tracking device. If you ever get into trouble, press it."

"A new toy from Q branch?" I whisper in case there are any bugs.

"I had to call in a couple of favors for this one, so please don't break or lose it." James says in a low voice as he clasps the bracelet around my wrist.

"You're one to talk." I gripe.

"The party will be in full swing in an hour. Be ready by then." James leaves.

Oh, I'll be ready. I think as I look at the bracelet. I've got the perfect outfit…

* * *

James has already gone downstairs by the time I'm ready. I make one last check in the mirror before going downstairs. I've curled my hair and pinned it up in a loose bun. My floor length silver dress is simple; three-quarter sleeves and a V-neckline that stops at my breastbone. Light foundation, a touch of blush, soft white eye shadow, a touch of light pink lip gloss. Black earrings. A choker necklace with a large cameo resting on my collarbone. The bracelet James gave me. Black and silver kitten heels. A final spritz of perfume.

There.

Now I'm ready. I pick up my matching clutch and leave the room.

The lobby is full of guests in evening wear. They're all mingling, chatting. I might as well take the staircase. Here goes nothing, I take a deep breath and step onto the staircase. Taking slow steps, I walk down, looking for James.

I see him standing next to a pillar, wearing a tailored tux. He's checking his phone, putting it away before he looks up. Those blue eyes catch mine. James's expression changes. Not in a bad way. More of like pleasantly stunned. I kind of like the look on his face. My smile only grows a little wider. Look elsewhere. I remember and begin looking at others, making polite chatter. But my mind is only on James and the look he was giving me.

He makes his way slowly to the staircase, arriving when I reach the bottom. James looks me up and down, nodding in approval. "You look stunning tonight." He says.

"Thank you." I return. "I think tuxedoes suit you better."

"Ladies and gentlemen?" The maître announces. A hush falls over the room and all turn to see the small and unassuming man by two doors flanked by two huge stone lions. "Have your invites ready."

"Into the Lion's Den?" James winks at me and offers his arm to me.

"Probably why he called it that." I return and take his arm.


	8. Irma Bunt

Irma Bunt

The main room of the Lion's Den is set up with various gaming tables. Most of them I recognize. Blackjack. Texas Hold'Em. Baccarat. Craps. Roulette. Others I don't. James is looking around, clearly impressed with the classy yet comfortable settings. "Is it me or is it ironic that this place used to be a convent?" I whisper to James.

"The good nuns are probably turning in their graves." He responds, getting me to smile. "Wonder where our host is."

There's a memory. Blofeld often visited us. He used to play a card game with my parents. Said it was the only way to really see if people were really trustworthy. He has a knack for sniffing out cheaters. "You had to gain his trust by beating him at three rounds of his favorite card game."

"And that is?" James asks.

"It's an Italian card game." Man…it's on the tip of my tongue…now I remember it. "Scopa. That's it. Scopa is the name of the card game. You play it?"

"Never heard of it."

Feared as much. I pull out my phone and begin doing some research on that card game. "Do you know how to play it, Tracy?" James asks

"Now I do." I said, putting my phone back in my clutch and taking out a ten euro bill.

"Ten euros?" James scoffs. "That won't get you very far. I'll tell you sometime about the Casino Royale in Montenegro sometime."

"It's all I can spare at the moment." I whisper. "The way my father set it up, I get a monthly allowance of fifty pounds from a trust fund. I won't gain full control of said trust fund until I turn twenty-five."

"Yes, well…" James takes the ten euro bill. "I will back you this round. And you better not say no. It's the only way you're going to be taken seriously at that table."

* * *

James brings back five hundred euros worth of chips. His look reminds me to keep my mouth shut. I walk over to the Scopa table and join in the next round. Scopa is very simple, one counts tricks and primes. It does take a couple of practice rounds. But I'm winning and adding nicely to my little stack of money. What started as five hundred euros soon grows to eight hundred. My confidence is growing. At first I don't bet more than fifty at a time. But I slowly raise the states each round.

James sits at a table a few feet away. He's sipping a vodka martini. I feel his eyes on me. Not in a bad way. Protective certainly, maybe a sense of fascination. I try to ignore it as I focus on my cards. "You're quite the card player, aren't you Miss Draco?" My current opponent, a gentleman who is on his third glass of champagne, teases.

He's getting annoying, but I decide to not provoke him further. "Thank you, and so are you." I smile politely as I take another trick.

"That's the end of the deck. Reveal your cards." The dealer announced. We do so. I can feel my opponent glaring at me. Part of me wants to get out of here. "With twelve points, the winner is Miss Draco. Congratulations again, _mademoiselle_."

The man is still looking at me suspiciously. Maybe I should get something to drink and wait for him to leave before I play another card game. I leave a chip as a tip for the dealer and take the rest of my chips.

James isn't at the table. Maybe he went to the bar. I go there. He's not there either. But I can see that the gentleman is following me. I should lose him in the crowd and head outside for a little while. Hopefully he'll forget me soon enough.

I manage to evade him and go out into the lobby. It's quiet out here, a fire crackling in the fireplace nearby. Maybe I should call Grandmother now. She's expecting me to call.

But I get cornered. The drunk had managed to follow me. "Got lucky tonight, don't you? Maybe a little _too_ lucky." His breath reeks of champagne.

"Are you saying that I cheated?" I ask calmly, knowing full well that I had won everything fair and square.

"I'm just saying that it's odd how you've won the last three times in a row." He wobbles. "But since I'm reasonable…" he reaches a hand to my neckline. I brush it away, determined to get away. But he's trapped me inside. "I won't say anything if you do me a favor."

"You're drunk, please leave me alone." I'm beginning to get nervous. The guy is much bigger than me, not to mention unreasonably drunk.

"Well, well, well…aren't you a feisty one?" He laughs and leans in. "Give us a kiss love." Punch him. I push my fist into his gut. I manage to get away but his fingers dig into my forearm before I can make good on my escape. "Why you little…!" He raises his hand.

Somebody grabs his wrist and pulls him away from me. It's James. How did he manage to follow me? "Leave her alone." He tells the drunk man in a low firm voice.

"Your gal here's a cheat." He pushes James away.

"Leave now." James orders.

"Come on, Bray, he's not worth it." I beg. The last thing I need is for a row to break out.

"Yeah, Bray." The drunk man bellows, looking like he's going to attack. "Listen to your cheating slut of a whore…ough!" James punches him in the jaw. He staggers back. "What the hell?! Now you're asking for it!" The drunk aims a punch at James' abdomen. James blocks it before shoving his fist in the guy's abdomen.

By this time, a couple of security guards have hurried over. They separate the two. "What's going on?" A middle aged woman with pinned back auburn hair walks over, flanked by two more guards. She's dressed in a nice black pantsuit and matching pumps. Her brown eyes are stern.

"Bloody idiot here started it! He punched me!" The drunk protests, fighting to get away from the security guard restraining him. A stream of blood is dripping from his now misshapen nose.

"If you hadn't threatened my client and then myself, then you wouldn't have ended up with a nose job." James is calm, but he's looking me over nervously. Is he wondering if I'm hurt?

"What happened?" The woman asks me. Her words and voice are meant to sound sympathetic but her eyes remind me of a starving dog when it has a fat chicken in its jaws.

I took a deep breath and tell her what happened, confirming that James is indeed my bodyguard and had punched the drunk man after he had tried to assault me. However, I leave out the part where I was called a cheating slut. The cover must be kept. The woman nods, listening to my story. "What's your name?" She asks when I finish.

"Teresa Draco."

Her eyebrows arc. "Your father was Marc Draco?"

"The late President of Draco Holdings? Yes." I nod.

"I see…I will have to ask you and your bodyguard to return to your suite and stay there while I determine who is telling the truth. These gentlemen will ensure that you go and stay there. I'm sorry, but I can't take any risks."

What?! We're not criminals! We did nothing wrong! "We understand." James says before he gently squeezes my elbow. "Come on, Miss Draco. No need to make things worse." His face tells me to keep quiet. I nod. We're escorted away, flanked by the two guards. I feel like a prisoner on their way to the electric chair. Not that I say anything. James is right. The last thing we need is to antagonize her.

But my rage quietly bubbles beneath the surface. I'm ready to explode when James closes the suit doors behind him. That's when I notice his knuckles. Little patches of skin had burst. "You're bleeding." I say, my anger turning into concern.

"There's a first aid kit in my room. It should be on the desk." Bond says calmly as he sits down on the couch.

"I'll get it." I go into his room. Sure enough, it's right where he says it is. I pick it up and head out. James is helping himself to some scotch. "Man, he really did a number on your fist, didn't he? Must've had jaws of steel or something." I ask, sitting down next to him on the couch. There's a couple of alcohol wipes in the first aid kit along with some Band-Aids. "Our jailer's a charming woman, isn't she?" I ask sarcastically.

"Irma Bunt is her name." James grits his teeth as I clean his knuckles. "She's a former member of the German Army and the BND. Black belt in Jujitsu, Taekwondo and Judo. Very experienced with various firearms and weaponry."

"Huh, no wonder she creeped me out." It finally clicks. "Let me guess, she's the Irma in The Hotel Irma."

"There's rumors that she's Blofeld's lover in addition to being his personal assistant." James admits.

I take out the Band-Aids and peel them out of their protective wrapping. "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you."

"Nothing I can't handle, darling."

"It's not like you have any choice in the matter." I finish wrapping the last Band-Aid around the knuckle. "There. All better."

"Not quite." James softly smiles.

"What's wrong now?" I ask.

He holds up his knuckles. "You forgot to kiss them and make them all better."

It gets me to smile. "Okay." I take his fingers and gently kiss the nude colored bandages. "There, now is it all better?"

"Much." James says. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I say as I leave to put the first aid kit away. When I return, James has taken off his jacket and is leaning against the sofa. Seeing him reminds me of something…how that fight started earlier. What triggered James' reaction was that guy calling me a cheating slut. That nearly blew our cover. James is smarter than that. Why didn't he keep his cool? Seeing him jumbles my thoughts. My head hurts. I decide to go into my room and lie down.

The bed is so soft and warm, the pillows are thick. Groaning, I sink into the bed. My hands press against my temples and the space between my eyebrows. The pressure relieves my headache somewhat.

"Something's bothering you." James finally says from the doorway.

"Hmm? No. I'm fine."

"Don't try hiding it. I'm much better at reading people than you think." James says. "It's about that man from earlier, is it?"

"Why did you have to lose your cool like that?" I groan. It's getting worse. "Ugh…I better not be getting a migraine."

James is quiet as he leaves. I hear a faucet running. He comes back with a glass of water and two ibuprofen tablets in his hand. "Here, this should relieve your headache somewhat."

"Thanks." I say, sitting up and taking the medicine. As I sip the cold water, James sits next to me on the bed. His fingers gently pick out the bobby pins holding my hair up. A warm tingly feeling fills my scalp. He picks up the hairbrush on my nightstand and begins running the prickly bristles through my long thick hair. James seems to know what he's doing. I like it.

"You've mostly kept your hair plaited or pinned up." James says once he finishes. "I like it better when it's down."

"I would, if my neck didn't get overheated from all the hair weighing down on it." I admit.

"I can fix that." James gently moves my hair off my neck, resting it on my shoulder. I feel him kissing my neck. His warm lips slowly move across my neck, up my jawline and to my cheek. I turn to face him and kiss him in return. My body tenses and I almost forget to breathe. James hugs me and gently lays me down. He feels so warm tonight…

There's a knock at the suite door. We stop kissing and I stand up. "I'll get it." I say, smoothing out my dress and walking over to the door. "I'm coming." Opening the door, I see Irma Bunt there. "How may I help you?"

"I've come to apologize, Miss Draco. I did review the closed circuit televisions and your story was confirmed. The drunk gentleman has been taken care of."

"Thank you." I say. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Actually, yes there is." Bunt passes me an envelope. "My employer, Ernst Stravo Blofeld wishes to have brunch with you tomorrow morning at his private sanctuary up on Berg Alberto. Will I tell him you're coming?"

This is the chance we're waiting for. "What time does he want to have brunch?"

"Is eleven too early?"

"Certainly not. Please tell him I will be there."

"I most certainly will Miss Draco. Directions to the Berg are inside the envelope. Make sure to bring your invitation with you so you'll be granted entry. If that's all, I bid you good night."

"Good night Ms. Bunt and thank you." I say, closing the door after she leaves. Turning around, I see James standing there waiting for me in the doorway to my room. "Looks like we've got invited to brunch tomorrow morning at eleven with Blofeld." I say, holding up the envelope.

James nods. "We've got some homework to do between now and then."


	9. Ernst Blofeld

Ernst Blofeld

* * *

We leave early in the morning so as to beat the morning traffic. The only way to access Berg Alberti is to take the cable car at the base of the Alps to the sanctuary. Thanks to James' madcap driving, we arrive at the station at a quarter to eleven. "…and does everything make sense to you?" James asks me as he stops the Aston Martin in the parking lot of the cable car station.

"James, we've gone over this a hundred times." I say as he puts on his sunglasses and helps me out of the car. "I just gain his trust and work my way into his inner sanctum. Distract him if necessary while you find out what he's up to. I'm more or less the eye candy." My voice lowers as I saw our passes to the guard waiting at the door of the cable car. "Hello, we have an appointment at eleven with Mr. Blofeld?" I say sweetly, making sure to smile.

The guard nods, returning my smile. "This way Miss Draco and Mr. Bray." James pulls me closer to him as we board the sumptuous cable car. The paneling is a rich wood and the seating fine leather. "Please have a seat and your ride will be begin momentarily. The journey altogether should take about ten minutes." The guard says before leaving, closing the cable car door behind him.

James studies the guard through his sunglasses. I recognize his look. "_Now_ who's jealous?" I tease.

"Very funny." James mumbles. There's a groaning noise. I see the giant wheel winding the machine slowly begin to move. Our cable car smoothly begins the ascent towards the snowcapped mountains. We don't say anything to each other for a while. Thanks to his sunglasses, I can't read his thoughts. It's a surprise when he does finally speak. "I wonder what this sanctuary of his looks like."

"From my experience with him, I suspect it's grandly decorated. He did have an appreciation for the finer things in life." I say before returning to watch the view.

"Sounds like someone I know." James responds wryly. I smile. We don't speak anymore until we get to the end of our journey. The doors unlock and the guards on the other side let us out. It's freezing. I shiver as I pull my thick coat closer to me.

The Berg Alberti is a simple glass and steel building built into the mountain. The large window reflects the high sun into our faces. It's a relief when we're finally shown into the room. As I predicted, the room is richly decorated with ornate tapestries from medieval times, rare hardwood flooring under large luxuriant rugs, grand portraits and landscapes by the great masters.

A man enters the room, holding a bundle of blankets and a baby bottle. Bunt follows closely behind. He's a little shorter than James and dressed in a tailored suit. The sun reflects off of his shiny bald head and his dark brown eyes look at me.

"Tracy, it's a pleasure to see you again." He says, a warm smile on his face.

"Hello Mr. Blofeld. It's nice to see you again too." I say with a smile.

"Please, my dear, call me Ernst. I would give you an embrace but I'm taking care of this little one." Blofeld says, showing the blankets. I notice that it's a tiny bundle of spotted fur. "Her mother rejected her so I'm hand raising her. Hard to believe, only a few days old and already a feisty little thing."

"So cute." I said with a smile. The cub's eyes were still closed. "What's her name?"

"I was thinking Freya. She's a _panthera uncia_ so it seemed appropriate." Blofeld says, giving Freya and the bottle to his assistant.

"A snow leopard. Freya is the Norse goddess of war and her favorite animals are cats." James says, still keeping his sunglasses on. Blofeld looks at him, wondering how he knew that.

"My bodyguard likes doing crossword puzzles." I explain. James nods.

"Hillary Bray, I've heard of you." Blofeld says, nodding and shaking James' hand. "I understand that you're very protective of Tracy."

"He's my bodyguard, isn't that a good enough reason to be protective?" I ask.

"Of course, my dear. I was just merely commenting on what a great relief it is to me. After all, your late father would never forgive me if something happened to you under my care. God rest his soul." Blofeld said. "I'm told that it'll be a while until brunch is ready, so will you care to join me for a round of Scopa, Tracy?" He offers his arm.

"I'd love to." I smile and allow him to lead me to a table with two chairs. James takes his position behind me, leaning against a beam. "You might want to take off your sunglasses." I suggest to him. "No offense, Ernst, but you might be able to see my hand during our round in the reflection of his glasses?"

"I perfectly understand my dear." Blofeld says as he shuffles up the cards. James does as I suggest, but he's watching our host. "What brings you here to the Hotel Irma? I don't recall sending you an invite."

Uh oh…I take a deep breath and come up with a lie. "True, but you did send one to Hugo Drax, the man in charge of Draco Holdings until I turn twenty-five. He wasn't able to make it and I was interested in learning more about the company I'm going to inherit. I figured since you knew my father and worked with him that you'd be a good place to start." I say, taking the top three cards from the deck. "I was under the impression that he told you."

"Not that it matters. I'm pleased that you are in my company." Blofeld says as he took a trick.

* * *

We are finishing up a second round when Bunt returns from the kitchen. Blofeld and I count up the other's cards. "You've beaten me again, Tracy." He says as I have thirteen points while he has eleven. "Very impressive. You will be quite the businesswoman." Blofeld says, flattering me. "Already, you're quite the beauty."

"Thank you, Ernst." I say, blushing.

"Brunch is ready, Mr. Blofeld." Bunt says, looking at me suspiciously. I tense up, seeing that look on her face makes me very nervous.

"Are you all right, Tracy? You look rather pale." Blofeld asks as a tray is rolled into the room.

"I think she'd appreciate it if Ms. Bunt would stop watching her like that." James says, stepping forward and putting his hand on my shoulder. "Why are you looking at my client like that?" I'm glad he's here.

"Nothing, Mr. Bray…I just think it's very unusual that she's pretty much won every single round of Scopa she's played over the last two days." Bunt says. "If I remember right, you got into a fight with a guest last night when he accused her of cheating."

"Are you accusing her of cheating?" James' voice takes an edge to it.

"I didn't cheat." I say.

"Nobody's accusing you of anything, Tracy." Blofeld says as the table is set. "I've played Scopa for many, many years and have sniffed out many cheaters. You are anything but a cheater. I must apologize for Irma's behavior. My assistant here has a bad habit of becoming jealous. Now, can we settle down to brunch?"

* * *

I am beyond relieved when we finally leave. By this time, it is midafternoon. As we are going out the door, Blofeld stops me. "Tonight, I'm hosting a party at the Berg Alberti with my other guests and would be honored if you could come and join us. After all, I've become very fond of you, Tracy." He says.

"And I of you." I say, feeling the lies slipping off my tongue like quicksilver. I don't want anything more to do with him. But the game must be kept up.

He watches us get inside the cable car. Bunt stands behind him, still watching me. I feel sick and want to scream in frustration and fear when the doors close and the car begins making its trek down the mountain. "God, if I see them one more time…" I complain. James doesn't respond. If anything, he gives me a look that makes me shiver. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"You're going back to England tonight." James says, not looking at me.

"What?!" I say in a rising voice. "But why?!"

"I don't like the way he and Bunt were looking at you." James says coldly. "It was a mistake bringing you here."

"We both knew the risk. If you didn't, you wouldn't have asked me. If I didn't, I wouldn't have agreed. We're in too deep now in any case." I try to reason with him, touching his shoulder. "Will you please give me a good reason why I should go?"

"You're making it hard for me to do my job." James says as he brushes off my hand. "I can't watch over you and take down Blofeld at the same time. Bunt is suspicious of us and not because she thinks you cheated. I've done my job for too long to not notice the signs. Please Tracy, don't argue with me anymore."

But I want to help. I think as I sit down. James stands by the window, watching as the station comes closer and closer. There's something deeper to this. I can just feel it.

Was there somebody who died because he let them get in the way?

"Who did you fail to protect?" I ask. "Don't deny it, James. I can see it in your face."

"Her name was Vesper." James says. There is a pain there. The pain I saw in Grandmother's face after Grandpa died. She still has that pain whenever she speaks of him. Maybe it'd be best if I don't say any more.

"I'm sorry about Vesper." I say.

"Thank you, Tracy." James says. We're silent as we leave the cable car and begin driving back to the hotel. The guests are milling about the main lobby of the hotel. When we get back to the suite, James disappears to his room. Maybe I should give him his space. I think as I go into my room to change into something more comfortable.

As I change into a sweater and jeans, I hear the sound of bottles clinking together from James' room. Something's wrong. I think and decide to go back and make sure he's ok.

"You ok?" I ask as I knock on the door. There's no answer. I push on the slightly ajar door. Inside, James is sitting at his desk. There's a couple of open bottles of scotch on the table and an almost empty glass in his hand. He's staring off into the distance. "Come on," I say, capping the bottles of scotch. He angrily pushes my hands away and begins uncapping the bottles again. "I know you well enough to know that once you start, you're not going to stop."

"What if I want to get drunk?" James asks bitterly, downing scotch and helping himself to more.

"Stop it, James." I beg, feeling hurt. "Please."

"I'll stop when I'm ready to stop." James says, looking at me angrily. Maybe I should leave him alone…I can't be in the same area while he self-destructs like this.

"I'm heading out for a walk." I say, grabbing my coat, mobile and room key. "I'll be back a little later." He doesn't respond as I close the door.

* * *

It's almost dark by the time I return to the Hotel after a two hour walk. My cheeks are rosy and I feel invigorated from the cold Swiss air. Hopefully James hasn't made good on his threat to send me back home to Grandmother. I doubt it though, I think as I step off the elevator and turn to the suite.

There's two men standing at the door. At first, I think they're trying to get into their room. "Excuse me, but I think you're at the wrong room…" I say as they turn to face me. But then I see the lock picking kit and the shiny revolver in their hands. My face drops. Oh no…

I bolt for it. "Get her!" One of them shouts. They run after me. Get to the lobby! I turn for the grand staircase, taking the steps two at a time.

The grand room is empty. The receptionist isn't there. They're right behind me. Where do I go?! I see the Lion's Den doors are open. Better there than nowhere. I run inside and yank the doors closed behind me, turning the deadbolt closed.

"Stupid bitch has locked the doors!" I hear somebody on the other side as they pull and pound on the doors.

"Then get the goddamn key!" Someone else says.

I need to hide. I think as I look around. All of the tables have been set with long table cloths that go down to the floor. Perfect. I dive beneath one of them and pull the fabric around me. The doors crash open. Pulling in my knees, I sit very still and try to breathe quietly.

They walk around. "Where did she go?!" One of them shouts. They're very close to my hiding spot. Please, God. Don't let them find me. I silently pray. A shoe slips beneath the curtain as he leans on the table. It's so close to touching me. Oh God, please help me get out of here.

"You check the kitchen, I'll check the fire escape. Only two places she could've gone." Another person says. "Remember, the boss wants her alive for the plan to work."

They're talking about me. My stomach twists.

"What about her bodyguard?"

"Kill him. He's part of MI6." The shoe disappears and I hear them running.

They know. I realize, shaking.

All is quiet. I need to get out. I need to warn James. I peek out. They're gone. Go to the exit and then run.

A hand grabs my shoulder. I gasp and whip around. It's James, holding his Walther PPK. "Come on!" He hisses at me, pulling me by my coat collar and crouching low. We leave through the doors and out the front. "In the car, hurry!" James more or less pushes me to the Aston Martin as it unlocks. I jump in and James gets in next to me in the driver's seat. Within minutes, he's peeled out of the parking lot of the Hotel Irma.

"He knows. Blofeld knows." I gasp as we flee for safety. "I heard them talking. They want me for something to work and to kill you because you work for MI6."

"I figured as much when I heard them picking the lock of our door." James says as we make a sharp turn. "We need to disappear and come up with a new plan."

"Where are we disappearing to?" I ask.

"Royale-les-Aux." James says. "It's a seaside resort in France."

* * *

It's about seven in the evening when we get to the Geneve-Cornavin train station in Geneva. James gives me a debit card as he parks. "Get two tickets for Dieppe on the next train. I'm going to take care of the car."

I do as he orders and get tickets for the eight-thirty train. By this time, James has come back from the parking lot. To my surprise, he has my suitcase with him. "I packed some things after you left."

"You were still planning on sending me home?" I ask as we walk to claims.

"No. Just a good thing to always be prepared, Tracy." He says, indicating that the conversation is over.

My senses are heightened. I look around for anyone suspicious. Is that man doing Sudoku on that bench a spy for Blofeld? What about that woman chatting on the phone? Is she relaying our position? James pulls me close. "Stop acting so nervous." He whispers to me. "The last thing we need is for people to get suspicious."

"Sorry. That incident at the hotel really spooked me." I whisper back.

"Don't blame you. But just because I'm getting you somewhere safe doesn't mean that the game's over on our end." James says.

I am beyond relieved when we finally get on the train. It's almost over.

We settle into our seats. The car is almost deserted. I settle down with the Nook app on my phone, reading some Austen. Just as well, seeing as one of my classes next semester is on her works. The train leaves and I finish a couple of chapters of Austen. After a while, I look over at James.

He's leaning against the window, his arms are folded across his chest. His eyes are shut and he's breathing slowly and softly. There's something almost endearing about seeing him sleeping. Slowly and carefully, I take off my coat and drape it over him. He stirs a bit but allows me to cover him up.

I return to my reading.

* * *

**A/N:** I know it's been a while since I've delved into the adventures of James and Tracy. Work has been kicking my tail and I'm in the process of being transferred between departments. Thank you for being so patient.


	10. Royale-lex-Aux

Royale-lex-Aux

I must've dozed off because somebody is shaking me awake. "Tracy, get up." James says. We're on the train and it's still dark outside. A quick look at my watch shows that it's almost four in the morning.

"Where are we?" I ask, yawning.

"Dieppe." James gets up and gives me back my coat. "We're almost there. Come on."

I yawn and stand up, putting on my coat. James takes my hand and helps me off the train. We grab my suitcase and James leads me to another car that he's rented. Within minutes, we're on the main road heading north and following the Somme River.

I lean against the window of the passenger's side and watch the countryside. Snow's covered the ground and the trees are barren. It reminds me of upstate New York, where I used to live. The momentum makes me sleepy.

I doze off, lulled to sleep by the moving car.

* * *

The next thing I hear is the sound of waves crashing on the beach and seagulls crying. There is the faint smell of sea salt. Where am I? I wonder as I sit up and look around. I'm in a nice room, lying on the bed with James' heavy woolen coat draped over me. But there's the feeling of neglect, as if the house hasn't been used for a very long time.

The French doors are closed. James is sitting outside on the wrought iron patio furniture, looking at the black ocean beneath the fleecy gray blanket of clouds in the sky.

"Hey." I say as I open the doors and walk outside, pulling the coat close to me. He nods at me. "Royale-lex-Aux is very beautiful."

"Hmm." He mutters as I sit down. He still has a pained look on his face.

"Doesn't have a lot of happy memories here, does it?"

"Vesper's buried not too far from here. This was her family home." James says.

"Will they mind if we're here?" I ask.

"They left long ago. She left it to me." He says, still looking forward. "Can't get rid of it as much as I want to."

I decide to not ask any more. It's clear he still misses her. It's also painfully clear to me that while I love him, his heart belongs to another woman. Maybe it would be best if I go back before my heart gets more involved with him. Part now before both of our hearts get broken. "So…what are we going to do now?"

"Somebody from MI6 is coming tonight to take you across the Channel and back home to your grandmother. Then I'm going to go back and deal with Blofeld." James says as he gets up.

"Do you know what he's got planned?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Come in before you freeze."

"You're one to talk." I say as I follow him inside and close up the balcony doors. "Sit outside in the cold weather without a coat."

He chuckles, almost amused. "Yes, Mother."

* * *

I spend the rest of the day straightening up and cleaning the house as I'm bored out of my wits. James stays out of my way and I stay out of his. He wants to be left to his brooding and I don't want to get sucked down with him. So I grant his wish.

As I dust the things on the fireplace mantle in the main room, I come upon a framed photograph that has been turned down. Picking it up, I study the subject.

It's a beautiful young woman, a few years older than me at most. She's standing at the wheel of a yacht in Venice. Her long black hair is curled over her slender shoulders. Bright green eyes sparkle lively and her lips are turned up in a wide smile.

This must be Vesper…she's so beautiful…no wonder he's still grieving. I wonder what happened to her.

I hear footsteps coming into the room. At first I think it's James. But they're high heel shoes, a woman. I can also smell a very familiar perfume.

"She committed suicide a few years ago after embezzling money from the British government in order to save Bond's life." Grandmother says. "I doubt Bond has been able to forgive himself."

I turn around and see Grandmother standing there, looking at me. I can't read her. "I suppose you're the one who's taking me back." I say, resigned.

"No. I've come to share necessary information with Bond." She says.

"If he didn't tell you, how did you know we'd be here?"

"I'm not stupid, Teresa. I've been doing this since I was your age." She says, sitting down. "I've known for some time that you've been helping him."

I shake my head as I put the photograph back. "I should've been suspicious when you didn't question that half-baked story I gave." I groan.

"Why are you helping Bond?" She asks.

"He saved our lives and I felt that I owed him for that." I say. Grandmother studies me, as if she doesn't believe me. "It's the truth." I say, feeling like she doesn't believe me. She nods, accepting it.

There is more footsteps. James comes in, having changed into a fleece jacket and jeans. He looks at Grandmother and me in surprise.

"Don't look at me." I say, holding up my hands. "I'm just as surprised as you are that she's shown up."

"I didn't say anything." James says, still looking at Grandmother. "I should've known you'd show up eventually…"

"I guess I'll leave you two alone." I say, getting up and leaving the room to give them privacy.

I put on my coat and head outside into the cold air. There's a pathway that leads to the ocean. Maybe I'll stroll alongside the beach. I head down the steps to the dark and cold waters of the sea. The dark waters roll into the beach before receding back. A gull flies above, crying out.

Picking up stones, I skip them across the water as Mom had taught me so long ago. My thoughts are lost while I think about Vesper and James. She must've been some girl for him to fall head over heels with. I envision her in my mind based on the photograph I had seen and the few stories I had.

Maybe she was lively. Maybe she loved to laugh. Maybe she and James liked to snuggle together and watch those old romantic movies. The thought of James looking cow eyed over somebody is a pretty funny one. I smile as I skip more stones.

But there is a pain there. To be honest, I envy Vesper. I envy that she got to know James. I look back at the house where Grandmother and James are talking. Was it there that he and Vesper planned on getting married in? Raise their children? Grow old watching the sunsets together?

It's best that I'm leaving…I think as I keep walking away down the beach. I can't be with somebody who constantly thinks about the woman he loves.

Even though I constantly think about him.

Even though if there were one person I could spend the rest of my life with, it would be him.

Even though I love him.

* * *

After a while, I decide to return to the house. James is coming down the path. "I was going to look for you." Why does he look so relieved to see me?

"I was fine." I said. "Did Grandmother tell you what you need to know?" I ask.

"Yes. Tracy, can we talk?" James asks.

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?" I ask as we walk alongside the water.

"Blofeld is more paranoid than we anticipated. Berg Alberti is a virtual stronghold. Also, he's been holding the lead businessmen of the world hostage there." James says.

"Why is he doing that?" I ask.

"There's rumors that he's hitting them up for protection money. That if they don't do as he says and give him a cut of their profits, he'll ruin them." James says. "The reason I'm talking about this to you, Tracy, is that there's a very high chance that I won't come back."

"We've always known that." I say, accepting it as part of his life.

"No, let me finish." He says. "If something does happen to me…will you make sure that I'm buried next to Vesper?"

I feel a tear roll down my face. I've known that Vesper is the love of his life. It still hurts to hear him say that.

But for him…I'd do anything.

"Yes, James. I'll bury you next to Vesper."

"Thank you, Tracy." James says, wiping my face dry. Suddenly, he kisses me, wrapping his arms around me. My feet curl in my shoes and I return his hug. I feel his fingernail rubbing on the nape of my neck. He allows me to run my fingers through his blonde hair.

It feels so good…but…I can't… "No." I say, pulling back. "Not here."

James nods, accepting. But his blue eyes look so hurt. I feel bad for hurting him.

But it's best.

"We'd best get back." I say. "Grandmother is probably waiting for us."

"Yeah, that wouldn't be a bad idea." James says, taking my hand. We don't look at each other as we walk back.

The memory of his hurt blue eyes is haunting me.

* * *

It's time for us to leave. Grandmother, James and I are going back to the train station at Dieppe. Then he'll take the train to Paris where he'll fly to Bern. Grandmother and I will go to Coquelles where we'll take the Chunnel back.

When we get to the train station, I want to say good bye and thank him for everything. If this is going to be the last time we see each other, at least let it be on neutral terms.

"Good luck, Mr. Bond." I say, shaking his hand. "And thank you again."

"You're welcome, Miss Draco." James says before turning for his train.

I watch him disappear into the crowd before finding Grandmother sitting on a bench, waiting for our train. I join her on the hard wooden seat. We're silent for a while.

"You love him, don't you, Tracy?" Grandmother asks. Unable to say anything, I just bow my head. She's quiet for a moment before continuing. "Sometimes, we pay so much attention to our enemies that we forget to watch our friends as well." Grandmother sighs as she gets up. "It's your call Tracy. I'm going to catch my train."

I wonder what she's talking about. But then I catch the purse next to me. Funny, Grandmother never liked carrying purses, I think. Opening it, I see Dad's Smith and Wesson, ammunition and all the papers I need, including a passport, a debit card and a train ticket to Bern.

She wants me to go with James.

I look up at her, but she's already disappeared into the crowd.

He's going to need my help. I decide as I get up and take the purse.

* * *

**A/N:** Thought I'd whip up this little treat and serve it. Can't believe I got this done in the span of a couple of hours.

But I'm wondering if this chapter is believable. Does it work?


End file.
